A Crack In the Mask
by MyimmortalHadenXCharm
Summary: As tough as Loki likes to seem, his resolve fails him at the moments he needs it. He is constantly on the edge between hero and villain. He needs some support, a knight in shining iron. And Tony Stark can give him exactly that. (Non-con, and later, some MalexMale Smut)
1. Chapter 1

AN- EDITED VERSION- I deleted nothing- and added alot more, to make it longer and to fix apparent 'plot holes' (There isn't much of a plot yet, ne? :/ (APparently you don't need a plot to have holes in it))

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This story contains:

(Mentions of) Male pregnancy,

Graphic rape

(Future) MxM Sex. Eventual!TonyxLoki (This may not happen, as I am notorious for dragging things out too long- to the point where I become too bored to continue)

Probably some foul language

OOC-ness (Hopefully there won't be any)

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Extra AN- This is the first Avengers fiction that I have written, or even tried to write. :/ Please be gentle on me. Not everything I put in agrees with the movie and comic universes BOTH. I don't write Tony Stark very well and as I read over this fiction to see where to go from here, I realized that I tend to make Loki very whiny and needy and ... Well a bit weepy as well.

* * *

Anthony Stark stopped dead in his tracks. His heart screeched to a halt.

He blinked. He blinked again. He turned around, walked away, and then turned around again.

He had to be hallucinating. This was it, he was seeing things. He had finally lost it.

He could see the God of Mischief in the middle of a supermarket. He had to be going insane. Had he taken too much Benadryl?

Pepper had kicked him out, told him to at least walk to the end of the block and back. He had expected to be recognized. He had expected pictures and autographs. He had expected Doctor Doom to drop out of the sky. But never, _never_ this.

* * *

"You know, Tony, you should really get up and go do something."

"Wha', Why are you trying to get rid of me?"

"You haven't left your bed in seventy two hours. You need to do something."

"Pepper, you said you weren't mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Don't be mad at me,"

"I'm not mad, Tony-"

* * *

He grumbled at the sunshine overhead, and the rare sparrows that were fluttering about and landing on shop windowsills and awnings and tweeting cheerfully.

'Fucking birds.' He sighed airily, crossing the street when the lights turned red. He swung into the tiny corner mart.

'Mmm, Did I remember my wallet? Ah yeah,' He thought after patting his back pocket. He stretched his sore legs and back, wondering why on earth bed rest would make someone feel so... so _stiff._

'And not in a good way.' He couldn't bring himself to smile. 'Man, I'm losing my touch.'

He walked past the crowded and rather claustrophobic shelves and moved right to the back near the glass fridge doors.

Turning the corner to see the rest of the doors, he froze. His body seized up. In fact, he thinks he might have had a small stroke. Which arm twitches before you have a heart attack? The right, it must be the right.

There was Loki. Loki.

He raised a hand to his eyes. That face didn't change.

Loki was supposed to be plotting with Doctor Doom or something. Destroying the city. Magicking the Statue of Liberty into a depiction of himself. Playing poker with his villain friends. Becoming a recluse with lots of cats.

Doing evil guy stuff, like tying a woman to the train tracks, stealing the worlds largest diamond and turning everyone into slaves. Making mischief.

Not walking aimlessly around a tiny supermarket, barefoot, looking as though he felt more out of place than ever before.

Tony Stark edged his way over to the corner of the shop, near the fridges, keeping a very close eye on the wandering man. It was amazing really, that no one here recognized the God.

Then again, he wasn't wearing his 'villain costume'. His armor was gone, and his helmet was missing. He was wearing a white t-shirt that was a few sizes too big for him and jeans that were too small for him, and curiously enough, Tony noticed, another man was walking around wearing the exact same clothes, and no shoes.

Tony actually cracked a smirk. Loki _knew_ that he didn't know how to dress. At least not how to dress to blend in with the common crowd. He had magicked that guy's clothes right onto his own body.

Tony Stark rolled his eyes, subconsciously moving his hand to cover his arc reactor. He didn't feel safe near Loki, as pathetic as he looked right now.

Loki had by now, moved down an aisle, slender white feet padding acrossed the tiles, just audible if you listened closely. Tony silently edged away from the fridges, peering around a soda display, down the aisle at the thin man.

His dark brows were pulled down in a curious expression. A slim finger was curled on his face, long sharp nail tugging the corner of his lip down. His eyes darted over the food boxes, looking completely and utterly confused.

Tony frowned as Loki gingerly worked a can of Pringles off the crowded shelf. The God stared at it intently, holding it with fingers that were shaking slightly, as if he expected the can to explode. Tony smiled at this, and then abruptly frowned again as Loki peeled open the lid, peering inside warily.

The clear plastic lid was tossed away, and the first chip was crushed beneath two fingers. Loki blinked, looking absolutely horrified. This made Tony smirk.

The second chip was handled with much more care, and was brought to his nose for a smell. When it was deemed to be threatless, it was bit into tentatively.

Tony blinked as Loki just set that on the ground and went for a box of Saltines, prying it gently from the shelf.

Loki sliced the package with his nail and shoved a cracker into his mouth with more confidence, before tossing the box behind him. Tony's fingers curled around the wire of the display stand he was peering around as he watched the cracker box slide acrossed the floor.

_'Um... You're supposed to buy the food first, Loki. Don't they have Grocery stores on Asgard-'_

Tony almost jumped out of his skin when the blade thin man made a soft noise as he recognized something. Pop tarts.

It was then that Tony noticed that Loki was literally starving to death. His stomach and ribs were exposed when he lifted his arms for a box that was out of his reach, and he looked positively emaciated.

Tony winced. He knew what hard times felt like. They were dark, bloody, and wracked with pain.

His hand scratched at his arc reactor in an attempt to claw it out before he remembered that it wasn't a car battery, He was safe in America, and everything was fine.

His stomach clenched in anxiety as he saw Loki glance down the crowded clausterphobic aisle in the shop before flicking his fingers sharply at the box he was going for. Loki hissed and his arm jerked as his spell cut off sharply, box dropping into his hands. He flipped it over, reading the label, nose almost touching the cardboard as he tried to read the small words (And make sense of them).

"Reebo- Flay-vin..." Loki whispered, cocking his head to the side. Tony carefully bit back a snicker.

This should not be funny. This was dead serious, he tried to tell himself. He had to call S.H.E.I.L.D or something, or 'arrest' Loki.

But he just couldn't be threatened by Thor's brother, looking at poptarts.

Tony had backed away at that point, just telling himself that it would be better to just ignore this, and hope it would go away on its own. This wasn't his problem. There was nothing menacing about poptarts, and looking for a fight was never a good idea.

He turned to the fridges again, and decided that he needed a case of beer. He doesn't pay any attention to the woman coming around the corner with her cart as she goes down Loki's aisle. She doesn't even blink at the open packages.

Loki didn't cast her a glance and continued to look at the pictures on the Pop tarts box. That is, until she momentarily abandoned her cart and moved to his side of the aisle.

When those green eyes finally strayed to her, the box was abandoned, dropping to the floor.

Tony forgot to even pretend that he was looking at milk or yogurt, and just straight up stared as Loki approached this woman who had to be at least seven months pregnant, and _smiled._

A sincere smile, without a hint of malice.

The woman didn't seem to recognize him as the man who destroyed New York with his army. Tony just blinked, and for the first time in his life, didn't know what to do.

He could only gape at this once menacing and fierce supervillain, 'King Loki' as he immeadiately started babbling to a pregnant woman he didn't know and asking avid questions about her child.

"Oh, a son. I see. Wonderful." Loki smiled, before frowning, looking slightly troubled, "How are you able to tell before the child is born?"

"I got an ultrasound."

Loki's face was blank for a moment before he covered it with an "Ah." Damn, this guy was a smooth operator. Tony was almost fooled, and he would've been if he hadn't met Thor before Loki. Thor, who couldn't figure out the concept of a flashlight. Loki obviously was as handicapped as his brother.

"And have you yet named him? From where I come from we name them seven days after birth." Loki smiled pleasantly, folding his hands over his own stomach, rubbing slightly, as if from longing.

"Stephan will be his name."

"Hm... I've never heard such a name before." Loki frowned.

The woman giggled, rubbing her large stomach.

"I love him already,"

"Oh yes," Loki smiled, eyes sparkling, and Tony immeadiately knew that this was not a lie. "I know what you mean." Nor that.

"I've had four children myself." Loki smiled, but Tony did not miss the nervous twitch in the corner of his mouth as the thin man realized what he had said.

And this man was proclaimed to have a silver tongue?

"Oh, your wife must be so happy." The woman smiled, and Loki visibly relaxed.

"Oh yes. She is." Tony recognized that as a lie right away. After all, Loki had been the 'mother' to the beasts.

"This is my first one." The woman smiled gently before hesitating, "... Is it really painful? Were you there for your wife?"

"Oh..." Loki rubbed the back of his neck, pursing his lips, "I was there... She was under quite the amount of stress... And I suppose it was quite painful..."

"Oh dear... When I go in, I'm getting enough epidural to turn me into Lucy in the sky with diamonds." The woman giggled, and Loki smiled, though he clearly was confused out of his mind.

"I'm sure Stephan will make his father quite proud of him," And this time, there was something sad in Loki's smile.

"He'll be a wonderful older brother." The woman smiled, pulling her red hair behind her. Loki for just a moment, cracked, and looked positively distraught.

Only for a moment.

"I'm sure he will."

Tony breathed slowly as the woman allowed Loki to feel a baby kick or two. He then turned and walked around another aisle, and picked up a bottle of aspirin even though he had plenty in Stark Tower.

As he waited at the register to be given his receipt, Loki and the woman came around the corner of their aisle and into the main area.

Loki immeadiatly froze up as he saw Tony, looking as though he was terrified, furious, and shocked all at once. Tony abstained from making a remark, giving the God a blessing and a half as he showed his ID for the beer.

Loki turned sharply and made his way out through the sliding doors and into the street. He just turned the corner of the sidewalk before he broke into a sprint. Tony sighed. There was no use trying to make sense of it.


	2. Chapter 2

JuMiKu: Yes, He does. They are worlds away, imprisoned or detained. Nobody gives them love except for him.

Anita Simons: ^-^ Loki seems like the type to be mean to pregnant women, but then again, he sort of was one himself.

cara-tanaka: Thank youuuu! I am.

Jessk13: It can never be anything good. He's always into some shenanigans... Add a concerned Tony Stark, and we get TEDIOUS HIJINKS!

* * *

**AN-** Oh my goodness, I am so embarrassed and flattered. I have only been writing for an ill-appreciated fandom, and never get much response, so this is just so overwhelming. This many follows in two days, is just awesome! : )

So, we continue, more moments were Loki is vulnerable. This time he's vulnerable to Thor. Hopefully this explains why he's running around in New York again.

(This took place a few months before chapter 1. This is just after Loki was released (escaped) from Asgard prison, and came back to Midgard with Thor.

* * *

Loki had always hated traveling through the Bifrost, ever since he was a child. It made him feel nervous. Suffocated. Helpless. _Weak._

The dark dotted sky surrounding him, the distant nebulas and planets, all began looking the same, and he began wondering if he was really seeing at all, or if he was dreaming, or sleeping, or if his eyes where spinning.

He hated it.

Especially after he had fallen off the rainbow bridge, he had always hated the Bifrost. It reminded him of the endless fall he had taken. He still wasn't sure how long he had spent just drifting through the nothingness.

He just _hated_ the Bifrost.

He had never liked the rainbow bridge either, and going back now, surrounded by the vast but also suffocating universe, pressing in on all sides, claustrophobia closing in, he felt like he would go mad.

He gave a small whimper as Thor jerked him by the arm, and he was reminded sharply of the way he had fallen so endlessly, through the stars and space around him, not knowing how much time had passed, or if he was even moving at all anymore-

He didn't like this, he didn't like this at all, he wanted to curl up and cry, squeeze his eyes shut and cry so that he didn't have to feel like this anymore.

"Come brother," Thor said tenderly, guiding him gently by his elbow.

Loki flinched back as Thor ran his large fingers over the rough, black-from-blood, stitches as gently as he could. Loki began trembling where he stood, rapidly shaking his head back and forth.

"Loki, Loki-"

Loki gave a dry sob as Thor grabbed him by the upper arms to hold him still. His mouth throbbed.

"Please Loki, you know how I begged for them not to do it again-" Thor released him, fingers trailing over Loki's arms.

The younger nodded sharply, rubbing at his eyes fiercely with his wrists to get rid of tears before they fell.

"I just... It's even worse than before, isn't it?" Thor asked softly. Loki nodded weakly, a little noise escaping his throat, but never leaving his lips.

It was worse this time. Not only had they made Thor do it once again, they had used rough twine that splintered off in the fingers. His lips ached, _burned_. The pain of the needle reopening his long covered scars had been nothing compared to the thread being pulled through the holes. The _pain_, it had put him into shock, so much so that he couldn't move or scream. It made him wish for death. It made him wish that Odin had handed him over to Thanos.

Not to say that Thanos wouldn't come for him eventually.

He knew pain. Whatever they said about him 'thinking he knew pain', was absolute ridiculousness. He knew what pain was.

Thor took Loki's hand, interlacing their fingers as they walked towards the Bifrost, towards Heimdall with his stoic expression and all seeing eyes.

As usual, Heimdall didn't look at either of them. He already knew where they were going. He plunged his sword into the center of the Bifrost, and sent them on their way.

Loki's only comfort as they shot through space, was Thor's hand tightly in his own. All he could see was the stars falling around him in their disorienting pattern and again, he wished for death.

* * *

They set down hard, and Loki's knees immediately hit the ground. It was then he realized how hard he was shaking.

"I'm going back to New York. To Stark Tower." Thor said gruffly, scuffing his toe in the dust.

"Would you like to come?" He asked hopefully, eyes wide and youthful.

'Oh Thor,' Was all Loki could even bring himself to think, before he crumbled inside.

Of course, Thor was only being nice, appealing to Loki's pride, pretending that Loki had a choice. They both knew that for now, Loki had to follow Thor. Thor was to watch over Loki and keep him in line.

Then again, maybe Thor expected him to try to run, and was trying to be on his best-behavior to make Loki want to stay. The thought made him cringe.

Loki didn't know if he wanted Thor to be kind to him after what he had done. He almost wanted his brother to spit on him, hit him, curse him, tell him that he was worthless. He didn't know how long he could take this gentleness from Thor.

Thor was still generous and kind to him, even after all he had done. This was why. This was why Loki always knew he would be second best. The loser. The son of two kings, and heir to neither.

Because they both had been wronged by the other, but it was Thor who had immediately forgiven, with no reservations, no hesitation, and no conditions.

'You were right Odin, we were both born to be kings.' Loki thought, as Thor approached him, allowing him to press his cheek into his armored leg. 'But that doesn't mean we were both _meant_ to be kings.'

Loki stood shakily and nodded. Thor squatted down and allowed Loki to climb onto his back, making sure he was secure before raising Mjolnir to the skies.

Storm clouds immediately filled the empty blue, clear skies, and lightning rocketed down around them, crackling and fizzling.

'This Thor, is why you will always be the True King,' Loki thought, hiding the moisture in his eyes the best he could.

* * *

He made me promise something, on the rainbow bridge.

"Loki, brother, please. Look in my eyes." I obeyed silently.

'Oh Thor, we're not brothers, You don't have to call me that anymore. I understand.' I learned to stop myself from referring to him as brother, ever since Odin told me how my entire life was nothing but a lie.

I was so used to being Thor's brother, being his 'best friend', the one he confided in when the Warrior's three and Lady Sif were otherwise unavailable.

But now, he... I don't know why he still calls me that. He knows that I am Odin's 'bastard son', and a Jotunn to boot.

He sat with me, and we both swung our legs over the edge of the bridge like we used to do as children. This time, I was gripping his wrist so hard that my knuckles were turning white. I knew that I wouldn't fall, and that Thor would never push me, but I couldn't help myself.

"Loki." He said softly, touching my face, bringing it to rest on his shoulder.

"Mm?" I say as quietly as I can, ignoring the throb from the stitches.

"We both made the same mistakes didn't we?"

I nodded reluctantly.

"We both tried to take over a people to prove our strength."

I just listened, unblinking, enraptured.

"You tried to stop me first, for the same reason that I had to stop you second."

I didn't understand.

"We both were gifted with great power, Loki, great strength. And while I was on Midgard, I found something out."

I lifted my head from my... Well, from Thor's shoulder, and looked into his face. It had been quite a time since I'd done so. He truly was a great man. Blue eyes stared back into my green ones and I just couldn't look away.

"I found out..." He said slowly, "what our strength is truly to be used for."

My fingers are tight on his wrist, and I remember how Thor used to be as a child, before he became the chosen, golden son, before he became stuck up and full of pride. He was tender, and gentle, and kind as he once was.

"Strong hands aren't meant for personal gain, they're meant always, to protect."

My eyes are wide, and I feel like a child again, for once listening and believing without a hint of suspicion or bitterness.

"Promise me, Loki, that you will never use your gifts for your own sake. Please."

And I find myself nodding before I can stop.

I may be called Lie smith, and I do lie, it's true, but never once have I gone back on my word. When I give my word, my promise will stand until Ragnarok comes and takes us away.

Thor sighs, relaxing slightly, and turns to gaze out into the suffocating blackness of space. A few minutes of silence pass, before he suddenly comes out with,

"I wish you would answer."

I rolled my eyes, tossing my head. Thor chuckled as he caught it.

"There's my little brother, Loki. I missed you so." I tried to smile through my stitches, which caused Thor's smile to falter. Blood leaked from the corners of my lips and wet the already brown crusted threads.

'Thor, I am your brother no longer. I never was. You need not pretend that I am anymore.'

"Please, Loki, Write to me." Thor begged, and immediately I flourished my hand. Golden lines twisted through the air, curling and wisping away into dust. I tilted my head to the side, waiting for a question.

Thor's calm exterior broke, and I finally saw how distressed he was.

"Why, Why did you do it?" He said brokenly, "I mean, I know why you were upset with Father, but... Why, did you join Thanos?"

_A man does much to escape death. _The words dissipated into the nonexistent wind.

Thor blinked. "Death..." He said rather blankly.

_I was never as valiant as you. After I stopped falling and realized that I had a chance to survive, I would've done anything._

_"_But why, why did you do all those things to the poor Midgardians? They had naught to do with the contingency of your plan to get back at Odin." He carefully paused before calling Odin, Father once again.

_I never did get the chance to tell you. I was not allowed to speak to my own defense at my trial, you know, _Loki smiled wryly.

Thor bowed his head. "They knew you were clever enough to prove your case." He then smiled a bit, "You always were smarter than all of them together. Walk their heads in circles with your clever talk."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Alright then, explain, my brother." Thor said.

_The Tesseracts power is strong. You don't understand. The reason it can bring minions to itself, is it's own power. It goes beyond enslavement, it convinces it's victim that they're deciding to do what they're doing themselves. _

Thor bent forward in concentration, brow furrowed.

_They believe that the Tesseract is the one who's being used. They feel as though that their decisions are their own. That is how I enslaved the Hawkeye. I didn't just take his mind, he felt that he had come to the conclusion that he was doing what was right, and that no one had convinced him of it. He truly believed that it was his own decision. _

Loki placed his hands to the sides of his head gently, as the words grew fainter and fainter as he grew weak. They sparked golden again as he breathed deeply, pressing his fingers into his temples.

_That's what they all believe, that they're using the Tesseract to their own advantage, not ever knowing that they're the victims._

"But what about you?"

_The reason I did all these horrible things... In the beginning I really did want revenge. I was hurt and I wanted everything else to hurt too. The tesseract, and Thanos too advantage of that weakness and blew that completely out of proportion, and out of my control. I became desperate and driven by rage. I suppose it was a mix of the Tesseract, my own selfishness, and fear of what Thanos would do if I refused. I was never brave like you._

_"_Oh, Loki."

_The Tesseract truly made me believe that that was what I wanted. That it would help me enact my revenge, that I was truly strong enough to defeat you. It made me think that I could show everyone that I could be a king, that I was ready. Of course, this isn't any kind of excuse. I wanted revenge on everyone who had hurt me. I killed the father that abandoned me, and I rebelled against the one that took me in. I failed to make either of them proud. And I failed you as well._

_I was going to show you and Odin that I wasn't worthless just because I couldn't fight with a sword. But I was wrong, I wasn't meant to rule, I wasn't meant to be part of this family. Everyone always knew it. You're the true prince._

_"_Loki." Thor said softly, bringing my chin up so that my eyes met his. "I don't care what anyone says. You will always be my brother."

And from that moment, I referred to him as brother once again.

"Come Brother,"

Thor was always meant to be a king.

* * *

I am not accustomed to his silence. Or his brokenness.

After Loki emerged from prison, he was just... this submissive shell.

Even with his lips sewn together once again, I knew that were he permitted to speak, he probably wouldn't have said anything anyways.

I leave him on the roof of the building. I cannot let him roam the halls of Stark Tower with me, as much as I would like to.

He would be beaten down immediately, and maybe put in that horrible holding cell that they designed, were Loki ever to come back. It would strip him of his magic. I don't think any of them realized that it would strip him of his Asgardian guise, and with it, every last bit of self worth. They were planning on testing weapons on him too, were he ever to show up again.

I'm sure, that Steven Rogers, and Anthony Stark would at least care about that. Neither of them are okay with torture, even if it includes my brother. Even though Loki apparently threw Stark from a window.

I mean the Son of Coul has recovered well, and everyone has forgiven Fury for lying about his death, but that doesn't mean they have forgiven my brother.

But still, I don't think, even Clint Barton would see Loki tortured.

Tears run thick down Loki's face as I dab at his face with bits of cotton doused in a foul smelling liquid that the Midgardians use to clean wounds.

That just breaks my heart. Loki hasn't cried since we were children.

He never cried. Even when he broke his leg, even when his lips were sewn shut the first time, even when his children were taken away from him, he never cried. At least not in front of any of us.

I know that he thinks tears make him weak, and that he thinks he can't afford to lose to me at anything else. He won't cry.

But he's crying now.

"I'm... Going to cut the stitches now, Loki."

And he shakes his head wildly, backing away.

"Loki, I must."

He shakes his head again, but then he doubles over and begins heaving, blood seeping through the stitches and dribbling down onto the ground.

"Oh, Loki. Please, Let me cut them- It'll be over quickly I promise."

Loki shook his head, still throwing up blood through his closed mouth.

"I'll go at your pace, I promise."

In the end he lets me. He lays on the ground in front of me, head cradled in my lap, hands an iron grip upon my wrists.

I cut the strings quickly, and Loki whimpers each time the blade comes close to his skin. It was harder when I went to pull the strings from the wounds; Loki howled in pain as the rough string tore through his infected and swollen skin.

He had to pull out the rest of the string himself.

By then he was sobbing hard, and I pressed his face into my chest, hugging him tightly and rubbing his back as he cried, trying hard to keep his mouth closed.

"I shall bring you some ice."

He couldn't speak. He had tried, but I couldn't understand what he was saying.

I went to go back inside, but he had grabbed my arms, sobbing the same thing over and over. Eventually it clicked.

Don't go.

* * *

Damian: Oh My God. What have you done.

Haden: What?!

Jaspar: Why don't you write about us anymore?

Damian: Yeah, are we too _boring_ for you?

Haden: Please, you guys are anything but boring. I just didn't want to lose my ideas.

Jaspar: Still.

Damian: Yeah, you can't just abandon us.

Haden: OHMYGODYOUGUYSARESUCHCRYBABI ES

* * *

Please review.


	3. Chapter 3

AN- Still blown away by the response. I love you all ^-^. I'll have to write more for this fandom if this keeps up. I did not say this previous, but I want this to become a Tony-Loki fiction, but I am notorious for dragging things out, so there may never be any romance at all (But there will definitely be lots of non-con and torture) Just like always, Loki's fucked. In more ways than one. He always get's the worse end of the deal.

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Thank you for everyone who Followed/Favorited:

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And thank you to everyone who reviewed:

JuMiku: Yes. Yes they are. Odin is _notorious_ for being a dick. And a power hungry one at that.

jaquelinelittle: Oh. I guess I didn't clarify, but the guards _did_ hurt him. They did _not_ do so publicly, otherwise they _wouldn'tve_ been allowed to spit on a prince of Asgard, a prisoner though he may be. Had Thor or Odin been there, they would've been stopped, as it dishonors their name as well (And of course, Thor doesn't want pain to come to Loki. ) Odin has an idea of what goes on in their prison, but doesn't care enough to find out the details. When Thor reveals it to him and appeals for his release, of course then Odin is forced to release him, lest he be revealed for the douche bag that he is.

Jessk13: My sincere apologies for breaking your feels. They may need some Kevlar for this chapter.

ChocoRoxiie: Thank you. I aim to please. ^-^ It only gets worse (or better, depending on how you look at it) from here.

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AN- More Loki feels. - Let me Clarify now **These are NOT the same myths as portrayed from countless sources. I have changed many of them. Do not tell me that I got them wrong. **\

* * *

My name is Loki. Hello.

Maybe you've heard of me. I am called many things. In fact, I have more names than anybody that I know. You've probably heard at least one of them.

God of fire, God of Mischief, God of Lies, Trickster, Shape-changer, Bringer of Ragnarök, Father of Nari and Vali, Theif from Giants, Maker of Mischief, Tricker of Gods, The sea thread's father, The burden of Sigyn's arms, Midgard's enemy, and my least favorites, Infallible liar, Scarlip, and Snake.

I hate them all. Every single name.

And that is exactly what I was hoping I could talk to you about.

I am accused of such untruths, branded with a mark that tells everyone that anything that comes from my mouth cannot be taken literally, when such filthy lies were bestowed upon me, as _names. _

We might as well start at the top. God of fire. That one baffles me the most. God of fire? Odin himself first bestowed this one upon me after I set off a small spell on Vanaheimr that had more explosive results than anyone had expected. It hadn't even been a fire spell. It had been an Ais Flaym spell that had been mispronounced by _one_ syllable.

Besides that, Odin always knew me to be a frost giant. The fact that he would give me such a name despite that fact irks me to no end.

Frost giants are probably the one creäture least associated with fire, even though their Frost Touch can blister your skin and make it feel as though it's burning... but from _cold. _I mean, it's not as though Jotunns are afraid of fire either, they just have to warm their skin near it to avoid being roasted. One of the few benefits I suppose, of being a Frost Giant: Being able to voluntarily regulate body temperature.

In fact, the more I think about it, Odin probably gave me the name as a joke, one that only he and his wife understood. Just the thought makes me feel bitter inside.

Just because I'm a Frost Giant doesn't mean I'm afraid of flames. Ice Flames, like the Ais Flaym spell, are no problem. I mean, I can cast real fire, but it's much easier to keep the flame cold. That name is utterly ridiculous. Then again, more than one person has told me that when angry, Hel's hallways of lava can be seen in my eyes.

Probably just Odin trying to see if I was in denial about being a Frost Giant. I know what I am. That does _not_ mean I have to like it. Thor hasn't accepted it either. That's probably because he's never seen my true form before. That would show him that I am not as Aesir as he thinks.

I can only thank Valhalla above that he still wants to be my brother despite the fact that I am one of the monsters he hates.

God of Mischief, Trickster... The same thing has been said about cousin Eris.

I used to pride myself on the fact that whenever there's something going on... I...well... I bring the party.

Sure, I have spread my fair bit of mischief, but no more than Baldr or Thor ever has. It never should have gathered me a reputation. My tricks just always seem to be blown out of proportion a bit more often. People like to dramatize when I'm involved. For some reason, people always assume that whenever there's a snake around, it's my doing. For Valhalla's sake, I despise the things.

Shape-changer, fair enough. Nothing that any magic-user couldn't pull off. Then again, Seidr users are far and few between on Asgard. Aesir favor physical strength. I would always be more at home on Vanaheimr with the elves.

It makes no sense though. I was forced to learn combat skills along with my magicks, but Thor wasn't made to learn any spells at all. It's not as if he has no potential to use them.

Those legends of me bringing Ragnarök, they're utterly ridiculous. All of those prophecies made, haven't come true, in fact they've been _contradicted_ many times.

Through legend, I have born one of my children, and sired the rest. This was just a large embellishment of the Midgardians. Perhaps I am glad of that. Nevertheless, I am mother to all of them, as in, they grew in my body, and I gave birth to them all. Nari and Vali are not my sons. I only have four children as of now- Three brave sons and one gorgeous daughter- and all three of my sons are not even remotely humanoid. For that reason alone, people treat them like the beasts they appear, even though Jormungandr, Hel, and Fenrir are capable of speech. Still, this made no difference.

All of them were taken because they were not 'desirable', as in, they didn't appear as Aesir infants did. And my poor daughter. She was my youngest. I thought I was going to be able to keep her; everyone accepted her after she was born in the form of an Asgardian child. She was a princess of Asgard, even Thor loved her dearly, until her tenth year when half of her body began to flake and turn dark. The Midgardians likened her to a corpse, even though her skin had only just darkened, not unlike their different colorations. Hel is white like an Aesir on one side, and smooth as the night sky on the other.

She was then sent away by Odin, to be the young queen of Nilfheimr. Even though the crown I crafted as her parting gift concealed her 'hideous' appearance, they would still not allow her to stay. I always thought her gorgeous. I seldom see her; I can still count all the times I've been permitted to visit her in my thousands and thousands of years, on my fingers and toes. She laughs like a child each time I see her, embracing me. It's good to know that she doesn't think I have failed as a mother. At least someone still has faith in me.

My poor sons. Jormungandr was cast into the World Sea, meaning he is able to appear in any water body large enough to hold him, in any world.

He is tormented whenever he shows his face; They do not take kindly to him on Midgard. He should not be imprisoned to the depths of the ocean; He should be off pillaging and gathering treasure, or telling riddles as any other dragon does, perhaps even appealing to a princess to be his bride.

I see him most often, besides Sleipnir. I can call Jormungandr at the edge of the water, to come out and play. He always comes. Sometimes I can even coax him onto land, to stretch his legs and his wings for a while. His limbs have grown weak from lack of use.

He too, tells me that I hold no blame for his situation.

My courageous Fenrir, branded from birth by that ridiculous prophecy. He was predicted to devour Odin. The power-hungry fool had him imprisoned far away from me as soon as Fenrir had spoken his first few words. Odin sent him away, just to protect himself. Fenrir had been a baby; A puppy really. He was defenseless, Harmless. I came to see him chained. It was mercilessly cruel.

His chains include a headbrace, to keep him from ever being able to lunge or snap, as if he would. His thorned bindings keep him from moving, and he is forever bleeding, unable to eat, unable to sleep. I am only allowed to visit once every hundred years. I don't know if I can bear to go next time, to see him still this way, but he will be so disappointed if I do not come and talk to him, and try to feed him, and to cut his hair to spare him the unbearable heat of the deserts of Nilfheimr.

Hel herself is disallowed to see him, even though the realm is hers to command. The last time I visited, I saw that Fenrir had grown quite large, even without nutrients. He's probably larger than one of those 'Golden Arches' establishments here in Midgard by now.

I am proud of all my children, but he bears his burden the best. I am glad that he too, does not blame me for his punishment. In fact, he comforts _me_ when I weep at his feet.

I don't want any of my children to think that their mother doesn't think about them every single second, still hoping that there is some way to free them, some way to show the world, that our family, that each of us, none of us is the monster we seem.

And Sleipnir, forever Odin's slave, treated as though he doesn't even understand speech, as though he was a normal horse. As if any of my children could be so common. Sleipnir holds me in high contempt. I see him so often, and yet do nothing to release him. He doesn't understand how much I wish that I could. I'm afraid of being placed in prison again. If I conceive another child, they are sure to be taken away too.

I suppose that the thing that bothers me most about it, is that people assume that the children's father is the same species as the offspring are. I mean, sure Sleipnir's father _was_ a horse, but I _also_ took the form of a horse when he was conceived. The rest's fathers were _definitely_ Aesir, explaining why they can speak as we all do. It's not me sleeping around with animals, it's _me. _It's my body screwing thing sup and spawning such strange things. I don't think Jotunns ever were meant to breed with Aesir.

Or perhaps it's just me, failing in yet another area.

I am not a thief from giants, I in fact, was stolen from them. The first time I came to Jotunheim in my memory and actually looked around long enough to see some Jotunns, was when Thor went to destroy them all. Odin told me all about my homeland when I was a child. I was told all about how horrible and bloodthirsty my kind were, and Thor and I grew to hate them, without even knowing them. We just believed that Odin had been in the right when he told his story of the war. When I found out I was in fact, a Jotunn, the hatred didn't go away. I was one of those monsters. One of the creatures that every Aesir child fears will sneak into their room to gobble them up.

I was stolen as a child. I was told by Odin that Laufey had left me to die, but I later returned to Jotunheim, for the second and final time, where I was recognized as the first born prince by my markings. Farbauti, apparently Laufey's partner at the time of my conception, told me all about it. Farbauti had bid Laufey to place me in their ancestor's temple to protect me from the war slaughter. They had hope that I would be protected by the spirits of our elders. I no longer know whether I wish it had worked.

His firstborn, small and disgraceful though I was, was safely hidden away until Odin, took me to a life that I could not say no to, a life where I was forever different, forever hated. Farbauti told me that although I was tiny, I was the jewel of Jotunheimr, the dark star, the crown prince. I would've had brothers had I stayed. I would've been accepted, even though I still wouldn't have been athletic, just as I wasn't on Asgard.

Both of my real parents had apparently believed me dead. When they finally found out, it was too late to bring me home. That statement Laufey had made to Thor the first time I visited finally made full sense. "Your father is a murderer and a thief." He had recognized me immediately, but couldn't do more than look at me. Farbauti told me that neither of them could bear the pain, and that it had been easier to say nothing, and to let me continue living. It hurts me more than ever to know that I killed my own father. At the time I had thought that he had abandoned me and that revenge would make me feel better, but now... Now I am just more confused.

I may be made to be a thief and a liar, but if I ever was, I learned from the best. Odin is worse than me by a hundred fold. He stole me from two parents and three siblings, and from subjects who actually cared for me. From what I hear, King and country are one in Jotunheim. They are one large family. I would've been cared for. True, I wouldn't have had Thor or Frigga- in fact, I probably would've ended up married to Thor- but I just wonder what it would've been like having that life.

But on Asgard, when I was taken by Odin, I was nothing more than war booty in his hands.

I was not a burden unto Sigyn. It was never her fault that she and Thor were arranged to be married, but all the same. I took Thor's shape, and married her, leading everyone to believe that Thor was her new husband. The big reveal was less than pleasant. Sigyn was now my burden, beautiful and sweet though she was, leaving Thor free.

Liesmith. Infallible Liar. I do not lie as much as people believe. When I lie, the lies just tend to be... well... Large, as lies go.

Snake. Contrary to all reason, _I __hate snakes. _That name. Repels. Me. The name increased after my second son was born. I don't know how many times I have to say it, _Jormungandr_ _is not a snake._ He's a draconem. A sea-serpent. A dragon. _Not_ a worm. There's a difference.

Scarlip. My lips have been sewn twice thus far. Once to save my life. It was a fair, albeit heavy price to keep my head from being flayed from my body. At least I was given the liberty of choosing who would hurt me so. Thor was not at all happy about my decision. , but I wouldn't have any other see me so weak- Even if it means, that yet again I lost to him. The second time was truly a punishment. People, especially Odin, believes that I go mad without being able to speak, that words are my only weapons, when in reality it's a relief.

I no longer have to bear the weight of the title when I am not forced to verbalize everything. I no longer have to be judged on every sentence I speak, where people try to decipher whether or not I am telling the truth, whether my lying is compulsive or clever, or _what_. People always read to far into what I say.

I suppose the most recent time was when I was in the holding cell, being 'interrogated' by the Black widow. I had _no_ intention of unleashing the Hulk. When I referred to 'bringing the monster', I meant myself, not that horrifying green brick. But she had no idea, she just assumed, as everyone does.

I mean, I _do_ lie. I've lied many times. In fact, I can twist words so skillfully, that even blatant truth, people will construe as a lie, even when I've told them nothing impure.

People don't truly want the truth, though. They want what's easiest to hear, and if that's not the truth, then they'd rather hear a lie, until it's easier to hear the truth again.

I can still remember the first time I lied. It had started young.

I was a few hundred years old, about seven by Midgardian standards, when I fell down the stairs and broke my leg. I was asked what was wrong by Frigga, Thor and Baldr, multiple times as I limped around. I just said, "Nothing."

I didn't want them to worry, after all. And it wasn't as if I could let Thor beat me. I wasn't about to let him be tougher than me yet again. We were born in the same year, but I was born prematurely, a poor explanation from Odin for my size. Still, at the time, I was determined to stay as tough as Thor. If we were the same age, then I couldn't let him be better than me.

If I could take a broken leg, maybe Odin would see me as a worthy, tough son like Thor was. So I said 'I'm okay', even as my knees buckled under me and the shattered bone split through the skin. Still I walked as my bone opened to the air and my blood spilled onto the ground. "It doesn't hurt, Mother."

After that the lies had just started spilling out.

I lied when Mother's favorite vase showed up broken. We were about fifteen in Midgardian measures, and when Thor and I were brought before our parents, I immediately said that I had done it, even though I knew that it was Thor. I was beaten soundly for that.

Mother knew that I had covered for Thor, as she sees more than she lets on, but she had said nothing as Odin took his belt to me. Afterwards, Thor had taken me to his room, letting me sleep in his bed like we had when we were younger, washing away my blood in comfort as he thanked me countless times. That had made it worth it, even though I knew that Odin would've never beaten Thor like that.

I lied when Baldr was killed. Even the Midgardians thought it had been me. It had been _Thor._ Now we both _adored_ Baldr, as everyone else did, even though he put me in as much of a shadow as Thor did.

It had been an accident. Thor had brought Mjolnir down right on top of his head. I'm positive Thor didn't mean it, but our youngest brother was dead just the same. Baldr had had a Fate's Eye like Frigga does. He had predicted his death months previous, but none of us took it seriously until he was already gone.

Baldr tried to save a beast that Thor was about to slay, and I guess that the killing blow went to Baldr instead. We were both devastated, and Thor didn't even have the energy to be terrified of punishment. He was too consumed by grief and guilt, which I deeply respected. I had expected him to be panicking, to be trying to hide the body or think of an excuse, but all he thought about was trying to fix Baldr.

That had convinced me to protect Thor once again.

When we dragged his body back, head split open, we took him to the healing rooms, where I burnt his body to a crisp with my magicks. I then told our parents that I had killed him in a rage. Frigga again, knew that I had done no such thing, but she stayed silent again, overtaken by the grief, wailing and mourning the death of her youngest son. Thor too was too full of guilt to accept the weight of what he had done. He let me take the blame; I think he was still in denial at that point.

Odin on the other hand, was not so devastated as to be incapable of punishing me. He had me chained underneath a gigantic serpent, dripping the venom onto my unprotected skin without relief. As soon as Thor found out where I was being kept, he sat near me with a cup, catching the drops to spare me the pain. We would talk and reminisce about Baldr, about what a kind soul he had been, and I could almost forget that sting of the acid, but every time the cup filled and Thor tossed the venom away, the drops would again dribble onto my face and my bare chest and corrode my flesh.

That was an agonizing three weeks.

Frigga told Odin what had really happened when she found out just what my punishment was, that it had in fact been Thor who had done it, and I was released. Thor of course, went unpunished. By then, it was too late; the story was already locked in place. For all intents and purposes, I had killed Baldr. At least, as far as anyone was concerned, I had.

I lied to help Asgard get its' destroyed wall built faster, and I ended up pregnant with my first child. No one cared about how I had to suffer, in fact they persecuted me. Even Thor grimaced each time he saw my engorged belly. The women of Asgard, when with child, are celebrated and praised. I was scorned, called every filthy name as though I were a common whore, and not the prince I was. They did such things, even though they had _come to me_, asking for a solution, asking me to make a deal, to lie to get them what they wanted.

They had gotten what they wanted. No one cared about the sacrifice that _I_ had to make. I was just the disgusting man who had gotten pregnant with an _animal, _never mind what Asgard got out of it.

I lied to get us out of a deal I had made with some dwarves, that again, I was petitioned to make, but still lost. I was to have my lips sewn together. Originally, I had had to have my head chopped off, but I made the argument that they would have to harm my neck to take my head. In turn they thought the most humiliating thing to do would be to silence me in the most degrading way possible.

Thor asked me if I was in pain afterwards, while he cared for me; He asked over and over, for weeks, months. I lied every time, shaking my head no, even when my body wasted away from hunger, and my skin became infected and inflamed, rotting, and festering from fresh blood and pus. I lied every. Single. Time.

I lied when I changed my shape into that of Thor's, to get him out of the arranged marriage he had never wanted. I ended up married to Sigyn myself, if only for a short time. She was not unkind to me, and I was courteous to her. She was thankful that I did not force myself upon her, and I discovered that she had feared that that was what Thor would've done. I became friends with her, and felt more and more sorry for her predicament, forced to marry someone she had never met, and just as she had adjusted to the idea, she had ended up married to me. What a horrible surprise.

Thor thanked me for that one too, making it worth it again, even if Odin had me imprisoned for a short time, to pay for my trickery. I had severe restraints placed on my magicks, leaving me submissive. We all know what goes on in prison when one is not strong enough. I became pregnant with Jormungandr as a result, and again I was slandered, made out to be a filthy whore. Only Thor knows how he was truly conceived. It wasn't of my will.

I lied to protect my precious children, only to have them taken away and used against me and against others as weapons, tortured and imprisoned, _exiled,_ being told as a mother, that it was 'for the best'. Only Frigga understood my pain as I wept into the floor at her feet, each time my precious children were snatched from my arms, hardly after the moment I named them. Only she understood that I would cut out both my eyes and my tongue as well to give them freedom. She would do the same to bring Baldr back.

I lied to Sif when we were still young and foolish and cut off her hair, just to show Thor and those Warriors Three. They had always bullied me when we were adolescents. Well, when I say 'they', I mean Fandral and Volstagg. Hogun was nicest to me, because I always asked him what he thought about everything, whereas the other's shrugged off his brooding silence. Hogun was always one to go without speaking, to abstain from giving opinions unless asked.

Even so, Fandrall and Volstagg teased me relentlessly.

I don't think Thor knew how much it hurt me, but it hurt, it hurt like the sting of a whip whenever they jabbed at me when I didn't hold a sword right, or was too small for my armor. So I did what I could to prove my worth. I cut off Sif's golden hair and scorched it black, proving to them that I didn't have to put up with their hurtful jokes and prods, that I was just as strong as all of them, that I didn't have to be so very strong to have worth to my life, that I could still fight as well as they could, even without brute strength.

Still they thought me a useless weakling. Thor has only protected me from their comments a few times in our whole lives. It was customary for him to join in with their laughter, and sometimes even poke fun at me even further.

I lied to protect the throne of Asgard from Thor's arrogant bloodlust, and ended up as the one to blame. I was telling the truth when I said that I never wanted the throne. I was merely a placeholder for Odin, waiting for him to reawaken. Even if it meant detaining Thor, I wanted to make Odin proud, to show him that I could do what was best for Asgard too. I could be a worthy son too. I could make him proud.

I lied countless times under the influence of the Tesseract, telling Thor how much I hated him, how I didn't care about how things used to be, how I wanted him dead. I stabbed him through, with words and with weapons. It's a wonder he didn't kill me for what I said. The Hawkeye might not've been able to remember what he had said and done under the Tesseract's power, but I could, as Thor and I are higher beings. I said and did such horrible things to the innocent Midgardians. The Beings of Earth may not be all kind and good, but they didn't deserve such a high form of war. They didn't deserve Thanos wrath or mine, or the Chitauri's.

I lied, I lied, I lied. In the end, I was always deemed a slithering horrible snake.

I spoke for everyone. Sometimes I even spoke to their benefit, but in the end, nobody ever spoke for me. The appeals for my behalf were silent. Thor's cries to the courts and to Odin went unheard and ignored, because they were on _my_ behalf.

Still, I spoke for everyone, hoping that one day, somebody would raise their voice on my behalf. My hopes were fruitless, and still are.

And I am accused of selfishness. That makes me absolutely mad with laughter.

It turns out, I am not so horrible after all. Was it not Odin that had lied to me first, and longest? It also proved, that my theory of him loving Thor most, was true. It was always true. He had always favored Thor. Thor was his only child. His golden son.

I am always lesser. Even when I tell the truth, even when I am truly doing what is _best_, I am never _right_.

I do right by no one. And no one does right by me.

That has to change

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Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

**PLEASE ALWAY READ MY AUTHOR"S NOTES AND REVIEW RESPONSES. :/ I KNOW IT"S CUSTOMARY TO JUST DIVE INTO THE GOODS OF THE CHAPTER, BUT SOME OF MY EXPLANATIONS AREN'T PUT IN THE 'GOODS'. : )**

Sorry for that completely pointless chapter (Chapter 3, I mean) It held absolutely NO action. It was actually part of this chapter, and I cut it in half because it got a bit too long. :/ But by doing so, it turned Chapter 3 into a lump of pointless back story.

Hopefully posting this chapter quickly will redeem me... Until you read the whole thing. :/ You'll hate me again for writing non-con.

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Thank you to the new followers/favorites:

Jessk13  
Haikari Archersight  
Lacus01  
Asbeth  
Neko Konojo  
dduckfan

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And thanks for the reviews:

_msgone_: Yes I know... It was a bit pointless, right? :/ Hopefully it wasn't too annoying (A few people have commented on it's pointlessness. I am aware. No need to rub it in further, you guys. ._. )

_JuMiKu_: _And that is how you create a monster. Seriously, I'm suprised he didn't become_  
_a raving psychopath just by what was done to his kids._  
_At times this chapter felt a bit repetitive and he came out a bit too clean. ..._

WELL... He sort of did become a monster, Not only did he kill his real father to make a petty point, he also joined the Big Bad just to prove another petty point. :/ And yeah, he's absolutely obsessed. He finally learned to shut up about his kids, because nobody really wants to hear it anymore- But he still broods. All the time. 'Came out too clean...' I suppose I didn't clarify that well enough (or at all). He was _not_ guiltless. In that last chapter he embellishes quite a bit to make himself sound better... l:) Totally something he'd do. But then again, Loki likes people to like him. He has done plenty of shitty things. -For example- Thor _did_ kill Baldr, but Loki may or may not've convinced Baldr to go save the animal. ...

Bastard. :l Damn you Loki, after watching the movies again... Shit. You're such a dick. I have to keep punishing you to continue liking you as a person.

_Loki: I think this chapter alone is quite enough punishment, Thank you Haden. *Rubs backside* I thought you hated even_ referrin_g to rape._

Haden: I _do. _I'm just trying to portray the weight of your situation... Anyone who treats it with levity should be shot in the face. And don't worry, I won't make you suffer too much before your Prince in shining Iron comes to your rescue.

_Jessk13: _Thanks I guess. You just made me feel both bad and good. .

_cara-tanaka_: I'll try to move things along. But I am NOTORIOUS for dragging things our in romance fics. :/ So no promises. I may get bored with this before I get anywhere near a proper Tony/Loki fiction. -Then again, I've never written anything for The Avengers before, and I realized I'm REALLY BAD at writing about Tony Stark. O_o Ya'll need to be gentle with me.

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WARNING: **THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS NON-CON, BAD STORYTELLING SKILLS AND POINTLESSNESS. O-O I DID WARN YOU.**

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Loki sighed as his shoes soaked through as he stepped in a chilled puddle. He could pride himself on being the man with the plan, but after he had parted ways with Thor a couple months ago, he just had lost sight of his next moves.

Not only had he been wandering around New York, completely and totally lost, (not that he would ever admit that), rather like a homeless man, but he had been approached by Victor von Doom numerous times, promised with an alliance and restored power -promises that Loki had heard before- and of course, sweet revenge on the Avengers. Each time he had politely asked for time to think, and buffered back his advances.

He had witnessed a few of the Avengers battles against his 'ro-bots', and frankly, he was a ridiculous adversary at times. He never seemed to fight on his own. Where was his sense of honor?

Loki inwardly squirmed at the thought of the Chitauri army. 'Well... Never mind.'

His face twisted as he thought of the Earth's mightiest heroes. His brother Thor, Mjolnir at his side, calling lightning to his fist, The Iron man, A bullet of Red and Gold against the sky, Captain America, A whizzing bolt of steel, The Hulk, Large, Green, and Angry, Barton And Romanoff, masters of physical combat; They were all so amazing.

And Loki found that the quirk of rage and bitterness that he had felt as he was taken away to Asgard by Thor after the battle, had all but disappeared. It had just turned to bitter, sulking dust. He was angry at them, at the fact that he couldn't blame them for trying to stop him and his scramble for power; He was left in a pout.

'What are you , five hundred?' Loki rolled his eyes, 'You sure act like it, Just stop wallowing for once. Stop stewing in your own messes and_think._ How can you divert Doom from you?'

He could always ask Thor if he could maybe possible stay near him. That would be viable protection in his time of need. But then the Avengers would need protecting. Doom had told Loki of his new Doom-bot. A destruction machine, horrible and terrifying and all that. Perhaps it would be kinder to keep Thor out of this?

'Valhalla above, I don't know.' Loki thought, 'Which is better?'

Get hurt and have Thor furious with him, Get Thor and his friends hurt and have them be... Hurt _and_ furious. And they might also think that he set them up. Which would be exactly what he did, if he had knowingly led Victor right too them. Nnggh.

'Caring is definitely not an advantage to devising battle strategies.'

Loki rubbed his fists against his foreheads. How... How to tell Doom to fuck off in a polite way? How, how, how. _How?!_

Usually words came to him easily, but at the moment they just, he was... Gods above, he was having an aneurysm just thinking about this.

'I could always stall.' He blinked. He blinked again. 'Oh, but I've done that already. Several... Times... I've done that. Oh, dear.'

He didn't know how long he could ask for time to think before Doom got annoyed and demanded an answer.

An acception, and Thor would surely be heartbroken. Loki grimaced. He had started truly caring about Thor's feelings again, and it was exhausting. But he did, he did want to stay Thor's brother. He couldn't stand to disappoint him again.

'Sentiment.' Loki huffed, 'How perfectly irritating.'

On the other hand, a declination would seem like he cared for the Earth's mightiest heroes. In truth, he did. But he couldn't have Doom knowing that. He had no desire to get to know the inside of Doom's castle. Especially not as a prisoner.

He was sick of castles, and he was sure that Doom's castle was no more inviting than Asgard's was.

Loki knew what working for an enemy was like, up close and personal. And it was not fun. Thanos was not good to his minions.

He swallowed. After his fall from grace, hanging in space for months, he nearly went mad. When he finally landed on an unknown asteroid fragment, he had crawled around trying to regain strength, enough to world bend to Muspelheimr. Thanos had found him there, and 'convinced him' to work for him.

Doom didn't seem nearly as threatening as Thanos did, but then again, those 'Doom-bot's of his had always made him feel strange. Like he was always being watched.

Loki sighed.

Giving an alert on Doom's next plans was probably not the smartest move he'd ever made, but then again, he'd done plenty of dumb things in the past, and he was still alive. He was sure he could at least survive whatever Doom could do to him, no matter how much it hurt. Besides, how was Doom to know that it was him who had told?

All he had to do now was decide what to tell Doom his decision was, and hope that he hadn't figured out that a tip-off on his plans had been given.

He didn't _know_ what to do.

Noticing the light storm clouds gathering in the sky, he wistfully thought of his brother, and wondered where he was and what he was doing, and what he was thinking at that very moment. He would never admit to it, but he did miss Thor rather terribly.

He wished he could be with Thor right now, and talk with him and see him smile and laugh about something trivial and stupid like women or mead or battles, the great oaf. He missed the way they would play. Even when they had passed their five thousandth year, and had long grown into their adult bodies, they still romped and wrestled like children, never aiming to win against, or to hurt the other.

Back before everything became a competition.

But as Loki thought on it, Thor would only be in New York to be with his _Avenger_ friends. The thought made Loki sick with jealousy. The more he thought on it, there was a reason that Thor and his armor had been designed the way it had. Red for Wrath and Green for Envy. Everyone knew, but no one said.

Still, he could practically taste the bitterness in his mouth. There was always someone better than him.

If it wasn't the band of Midgardian heroes, it was Thor's rude and insensitive friends, The Warrior's Three and Lady Sif.

At least he wasn't in Arizona, with that woman. At this point, Loki was almost positive that his skin was turning green from envy. He had often wished death upon others, upon Odin, upon Thor, upon everyone who had hurt him over his lifetime, but never had he wished such pain upon someone, as he had Jane Foster.

Just another reason to the list of why he was a horrible individual. Leave it to him to wish death upon the person who makes Thor so very happy. The guilt of this however, could not overcome the jealousy he felt. He wished suffering and an early death upon her.

He was sure Thor knew, too.

He grimaced as he stopped in front of a grotty cafe, and after a second or two of internal debate, stepped inside after ghosting a hand over his face to change his features slightly. There was no point getting wet after all. Or recognized, for that matter.

He felt absolutely exhausted. Not only was he weak from his Asgardian jail time, and having his lips reclosed, his magicks had, for some reason, become extremely frail and weak in the Midgardian air. Even something small like a smoke bomb would take tremendous effort, and would hurt terribly.

In fact, now that he thought on it, this happened every single time he visited Midgard. He remembered something that Odin once said about the Midgardians no longer believing in magicks, and now he understood why. There was something about the air pressure in this realm that was incredibly restrictive and repressive to the energy.

The Midgardians no longer believe, because over time all but the very strongest spell users died out, and eventually all of them were eliminated. The Fantastics of this realm faded and are now considered legend. Elves and Merfolk are things that are only in storybooks here.

'It's as though the planet's core has died, cooked itself. In fact, I think that's exactly it.'

It's horrible though, the very air around him when he casts a spell, He feels like he might choke. The Avengers know nothing of his true power. He has not a twentieth of what his true power is when on this realm.

'When I came last time, as Midgard's enemy, although Thanos had hurt me terribly during my time with him, I had had some time to recuperate before coming to obtain the Tesseract. At least I had regained a bit of my strength and was able to do a bit of spellwork, but now with my phsyical ableness dwindling, I fear I am more vulnerable than ever.'

It takes such tremendous effort even for the simplest things. If Loki isn't careful, he fears he may actually kill himself from exhaustion, even from just trying to find his direction, or cast up a map, or to find Thor, or even to light his way way.

'Casting actual protection, at this point would probably end my life.'

After sitting down gingerly at a table, he again, pondered the Avengers.

'Even if I did want to visit Thor, that holding cell is less than pleasant. I don't like confinement. It makes me feel even more suffocated. And I don't exactly want to be anywhere near their green friend.' He shivered as a phantom pain ghosted through his back as he remembered being slammed through concrete.

The Black widow and Hawkeye would likely try to kill him on sight. At the moment, they would probably succeed.

Captain America would never see him hurt _too_ cruelly, He seemed to be the paradigm, the epitome of righteousness and morals in their team.

Tony Stark was not too fond of torture, or so said his file. 'He's not fond of _me_ either,' Loki raised his eyebrows. Stark's file had said he had been detained by some Terrorists on the other half of the world, forced to build weapons. Honestly, none of it had made any sense. He never got very far in his reading on that.

And Thor. He'd probably be upset and indignant at his brother being hurt, but ultimately Loki was sure that he would accept it.

'I don't think any of them would forgive me for killing their 'Phil', Son of Coul.' Loki winced as he remembered how in his rage he had been too rash and stabbed the man.

He could hardly remember, that tiny sliver of consciousness that wasn't consumed by rage and grief and lust for power, that had forced him to approach the dying man. Coulson had lay there bleeding, telling him that he had no sense of conviction, appealing to the Loki that once was, the one who loved the battles that went on between words, the Loki that would never kill his opponent when he couldn't see their dying face, the Loki that still held some sort of moral code.

Loki hadn't known what to say; His comeback had been a weak, 'I don't think I am the one who lacks conviction.' He had never had the chance to finish the sentence however, and the Son of Coul was left there to die.

-And Loki remembered that he had been three seconds away from healing him, while he still had his sense of chivalry about him, before the blue-eyed monster that the Tesseract created took him over completely.

Loki blinked, fingers curling into the tabletop as the haunting image of Clint Barton floated through his mind. Empty teal eyes and false confidence in his shoulders. Misplaced brutality and fake loyalty.

'He was to me exactly what I was to Thanos.' Loki's brow furrowed, knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. If any of the Avengers wanted him to die a painful death, it was Clint Barton.

He continued watching people pass by outside the window, surprised when a young waitress came to his table and broke him out of his thoughts.

"Hello Sir, What can I get for you?"

Loki blinked, taken aback. Especially by the formal title. Even before he had been shamed on Asgard, back when he still was a real prince, he had never heard anyone call him 'Prince Loki' except for Thor.

Any sort of respectful title always surprised him.

"Um... I... I don't need anything, thank you."

"Oh, is it just cold outside or something? Because that's okay." She smiled, "It's probably going to rain soon, so you can hang out in here as long as you want. Just call if you need something."

Loki nodded, heart still pounding as she retreated. Two men walked inside, and the waitress served them two coffees.

That Tony Stark. Loki always expected the unexpected, but nothing surprised one like seeing a Billionare in a corner supermarket.

Loki grimaced, wondering just how much Anthony Stark had seen of him. Had he even seen him before spotting him at the counter? Loki suspected it was so, but then 'Why didn't he take me under arrest? Am I not still considered a danger? Why did he let me go?'

'It was probably because I looked so pathetic.' Loki thought bitterly. 'Barefoot and trying to figure out their stupid Midgardian food parcels.'

Loki winced, 'But why, why didn't he try to at least protect that woman from me? Surely he thought I was going to gut her alive, or something equally foul?'

Loki blinked. It hit him hard.

That was it. She must have known. She had known all along who he was. Loki's eyes widened and his fingers loosened on the tabletop.

'She knew, and still she showed me such kindness,' Loki thought, 'I who destroyed New York, and killed so many Midgardians without even giving them the honor of asking their names, I who could've killed her brother... Or her husband.'

'Then again, I looked so vulnerable and helpless,' He scowled. 'How annoying.'

Loki realized more and more, that Asgard and Midgard were two very different places. Asgardians pretend to be more advanced when in reality, Midgardian technology has advanced frighteningly fast. Asgard has stayed the same for thousands of years.

And the citizens. Loki had been sure that the Midgardians had lost their sense of honor, they didn't hold a moral code anymore as Asgardians still did. Even though the lot of them were greedy and selfish, consumed with lust, and self-centeredness, there were still such kind people in the sea of spite and hatred.

'Thor is one of those. A jewel in a haystack.' Loki shook his head, eyes darting over as he felt the sharp stare of one of the men.

Something about their voices made him stiffen in his chair, something that clicked in his mind, and after five minutes, he could no longer stand their stares and laughs.

He felt as though they could see inside him, see all his secrets, and he couldn't afford to tell any more of them.

* * *

The Fallen God turned from the unfamiliar sidewalk down into an unfamiliar alley, the blue glow of Stark Tower disappearing between the two buildings on either side of him.

Content that no one would ever see him like this, not this pathetic and weak, he settled next to a trash can, massaging his sore legs, and stretching his feet. He looked with interest at the street lamp's light bulb, never having had the chance to properly examine this bit of Midgard's city structure.

The stray cat that had poked its head out from behind said street light, soon loped over to him, rubbing itself against his leg.

He almost jumped out of his skin, "Oh my Goodness." Loki swallowed, dragging his fingers through his own hair, forcing it back against his head and out of his eyes.

The fur of the small creäture looked prickly, but it was soft, in fact, even softer than Fenrir's. "Oh... You're soft." He whispered.

"We don't have any of you on Asgard," Loki confessed. The cat blinked at him stoically, purring and rubbing into his leg.

"You are a graceful creäture. In fact, you remind me of Lady Sif." The cat stared at him with golden eyes. "And perhaps Heimdall as well." The cat snapped its gaze from Loki's green eyes, and rubs its head under his hand, practically begging for an ear scratch. Loki picks a knot out of its fur.

"You are a good listener." Loki sighed. "I am Loki... of Asgard. And I am burdened with horrible worthlessness... Do you have a name?" He said hopefully. The creäture looked as though it saw more than it let on. Like Hogun, it saw all, but never spoke of it.

A door slammed, and Loki jumped two inches into the air again, heart pounding hard again. It had only just recovered from his previous surprise, and by now had skipped several beats. It was now palpitating in his chest.

The cat's fur puffed up and her back arched under Loki's hand, hissing and spitting, claws digging into the ground.

"Where is that bitch?" He heard a low voice say.

Loki instantly scrambled to his feet, almost falling flat on his face as he began running as fast as he could down the alley, knowing immeadiatly that he was in for it.

* * *

"The holding cell is fully operational. We're quite confident that it will work, if we ever have a chance to test it out," Coulson said stoically, his unnervingly calm face breaking into a smile before anyone could comment.

"Mm, Great." I said, drumming my fingers on the table, half wondering whether to spill the beans about seeing Loki earlier.

"What exactly will it do?" Thor asked, leaning forward onto the table, thumb on his chin, looking slightly concerned.

"Shock the shit out of him." Fury said. "And a bunch else."

Then again, maybe I shouldn't tell.

Phil winced at almost the same moment that I did. We had all been there when he woke up, and one of the first things he said was that he had forgiven Loki. That was pretty surprising, I gotta say, but then again, Coulson seemed like the type to either let things slide right away, or hold a grudge for all eternity. Guess he's let it go.

And I didn't exactly want Loki to be flayed alive either, I mean anyone who could be nice to a pregnant woman on sight couldn't be as bad as he had seemed.

Hell, _I_ can't even do that- Pregnant woman freak me out. Not exactly in a _bad_ way... But they just... Make me nervous, especially in supermarkets. It reminds me to buy condoms. Lots.

I mean, sure, okay yeah, Loki had killed eighty people, and tried to enslave Earth, but Thor told us all about the Tesseract.

After Coulson woke up and had regained a bit of strength, Thor had gathered us all, sans Fury and Hill, he had made sure of that, and told us all about it.

Apparently, the Tesseract is a seperate entity, smarter than any being that has ever lived, even though it isn't even technically alive itself. He told us that Loki was a victim, just like Hawkeye. Phil went on to say that right before he lost consciousness, he had seen a flicker of green in Loki's otherwise teal eyes. We all thought that they had always glowed blue like that, but Thor said that they had always been green up until his fall from this 'Bifrost' thing.

Clint however, just hasn't accepted that yet. He needs much more than a simple apology or excuse to get over his mind control problem, that much is for sure.

I mean, Thor told Barton that Loki could remember everything he did, but Clint remembers nothing. He has no idea who he's hurt or what he's said. That kind of helplessness is just awful.

Thor also told us about Thanos' threats, and that Loki was merely 'Step one' when it came to being conquered. We didn't understand what that meant until he clarified that by defeating Loki, he was now vulnerable and likely to be punished by his superior, Thanos. He had been charged with the conquering of Midgard, but Loki was never going to be the one to rule.

Thanos was going to be the one to raise hell, and from what Thor says, Loki was his bitch when it came to that. 'Conquer Midgard and maybe I'll spare you from death,' Or something evil like that.

We all knew what threats felt like. Especially me.

The arc reactor itches in my chest.

Everyone but me still thinks that Loki is in Asgard's prison. Now that I think about it, Thor must know too, but then, why isn't Thor out protecting him? If Thanos is going to target him, shouldn't Loki be his priority?

No matter what Thor says about being on our side, we all know that he'll always put Loki's life first.

Clint told us, that when Loki first came through the portal, he 'looked like shit'. After our little chat with Coulson, we all are pretty sure that Thanos' threats were legitimate ones.

Thor had blanched as if he had just realized something before telling us that even a few hours with someone like Thanos would make you beg for death, and that it was a wonder that Loki had survived at all, given his long fall into space- something that could drive anyone mad- and being 'convinced' by Thanos surely wasn't gentle at all.

I knew what that was like- Being forced to help the enemy no matter if you support them or not.

"Moving along," Fury said, eye patch gleaming in the light. I roll my eyes. Leave it to Fury to make light of torture. Steve twitches in his seat acrossed from me. He had told me about his friend Bucky. Just thinking about it brings back my nightmares from Afghanistan.

I wasn't claustrophobic before, but I am now. Too many things remind me of that hellhole. Even my garage in Malibu, when it gets too dirty, sorta reminds me of the cave.

It's times like that, when I wake up screaming, cold and sweaty, and still terrified that I wish, that I had real friends. Not just drunk prostitutes that I drag home and then kick out, not Rhodey or Pepper who never take what I say seriously, not Steve who is too patronizing, or Thor who doesn' t understand, but a real normal friend, who understands the pain.

I've never _had_ one. Not ever. I'm just the broken boy who knows nothing of love.

"We have been having more problems from Doctor Doom lately,"

"Like what, Sir?" Steve Rogers asked- A bit too eagerly if you ask me.

"We encountered and terminated a couple of doom bots earlier this month,"

"We know. We did the terminating," I said with a bit of impatience.

"As I was _saying_, we've received a tip off from an anonymous source that he'll be targeting the capitol building, and another unnamed spot soon with a bomb that'll blow the place sky high."

* * *

Another punch landed and Loki spat out a mouthful of blood. His scabs had been reopened and his mouth was bleeding profusely. His knees landed in the mud as he was kicked in the stomach and spat upon.

He _definitely_ should've told Thor about those few dozen times that Doom had spirited him away to Latveria, to try to get him to join forces. But how could he have forseen that they would find out that it was him? Besides, he didn't know how he could ever put aside pride and ask Thor for help.

He had thought that if he told Thor that he had been approached by Doom, Thor would yet again be dissappointed in him, thinking that he had decided to join the 'forces of evil'.

Then again, how could he ally himself with someone so ridiculous? He lived in a castle in his own country, not to mention his _costume_ was ridiculous. Even Tony Stark who had teased Loki relentlessly for his horned helmet, couldn't possibly ignore how strange Doom looked.

"What do you want from me?"

Another kick.

"Shut up, pretty boy."

Loki's rage swelled inside of him, and he just caught himself halfway through whispering a spell. One that would detonate the entire block.

Not only would it sap him of energy to the point where it might actually _kill_ him, he would be caught in the explosion as well. Not to mention, he had promised Thor.

Fuck.

"We know you gave that pathetic tag team the tip off on Doom, And now you're gonna pay for it,"

He had told. He had walked in on shaking legs, wearing another man's face, and told someone at the front desk of Stark Tower, that he knew where Doom would strike next.

He was sick of being the person that everyone thought they could take advantage of. He was sick of hiding, being homeless, and was sick of being so paranoid. He just wanted it all to stop.

He wanted to truly be Thor's brother, and make him proud. He just wanted to live in peace.

Another kick.

'I promised. Never to use my strength, for my own sake.' Loki thought bitterly.

His neck snapped to the side as he was slapped hard acrossed the face. He whined as his hair was yanked, face being pressed up into the man's crotch. Oh dear, this was just disgusting. Especially the smell. How degrading.

'Stop being helpless, Loki. You are a warrior, and you can fight. Fight, Fight until your dying breath leaves you. _Fight!__'_

Loki tightened his hands around the mans legs and pushed his face away, trying to draw in some unpolluted air- "Stop, Stop it-"

"Hm, Looks like this one's used to it, wouldn't ya' say?"

"He's good at begging-"

"Shut up!" Loki hissed, scrambling away. Vise-like fingers closed around his ankle and dragged him back. The hands on his thighs and rear were none too gentle-

"Let go, _now_!" An elbow came down hard between his shoulders and the wind rushed out of him.

'What a pity,' Loki thought. 'This was just how Jormungandr was conceived,'

Loki's eyes welled up, 'I don't think Thor ever thought that this vow of his would get me into such trouble,'

"Help me," He whispered, shame thick in his voice. "Thor,"

* * *

Tony didn't miss the way Thor jerked in his seat suddenly. He eyed the blonde god for a moment, but then let it slide.

Eccentric Asgardian. He'd probably piss his pants if he heard the doorbell when he wasn't ready.

"Meeting adjourned,"

Tony sighed, as Nick Fury finally stopped flapping around the head of the table like some disgusting one-eyed-bird. That guy could really talk drama. I mean, a couple of doom-bots is no problem really. A one person mission. Hell, Tony could get them himself on the way to pick up a pizza. A couple of sky shots and it would be done. Howie's would still be warm by the time he got back.

But apparently these were 'new and _improved_' Doom bots. Just like the last twenty eight models. Tony inwardly sighed.

"Great," He said, getting up, Steve and Thor following him into the elevator.

They got off, emptying into Tony's living space. Stark immeadiatly broke off to the kitchen. Steve bid them goodbye, leaving for the gym. Thor wandered in after Tony, looking as though he didn't know where to go.

"So Thor, what was wrong with you earlier?"

"Hmm?"

"You sorta just... I dunno, jumped out of your skin in the middle of the meeting." Tony rummaged through the fridge, wondering why on earth all that there was in there was alcohol. That should be in his mini-bar. ... And his mini-bar was fully stocked. Good Lord, it was official, He had a problem.

There wasn't even bread in the fridge, or eggs, or milk. He sighed, turning to the cupboards, and finding, what do you know, Fruit rollups.

'Pepper doesn't buy these,' He thinks, before shaking his head and opening the box. 'Oh God, what am I, Five?... Lord, I must be depressed or something.' He just sighed, scooping out a handful of the jello snack rejects.

"Oh," Thor's face darkened, head bowing, "I just heard something." Again Thor twitched horribly, hand rising as though he wanted to cover his ear. His head snapped to the side. A crack of distant thunder rumbled in the back of Tony's mind.

"Like what?" He said, half uninterested.

Thor paused, fists clenching and unclenching. Tony winced as the blonde God ripped open a box of Poptarts, spilling them onto the floor. Thor's eyes closed, brow furrowing deeply as though in pain. A flash of lightning ripped the sky, clearly visible through the windows.

"I heard my brother. Calling for me."

And outside it had started to storm.

* * *

"THOORRRRR!" Loki screamed into the darkness, nails digging into the ground as he was dragged kicking through the mud, further away from the streetlights, and away from the comforting crackles and flashes of lightning.

"THOOORRR!"

'_Why isn't he coming?!' _Loki thought desperately, '_Can't he hear me?!'_

"Shut up, You little bitch!" And the second man stomped on his hand. Loki was happy enough that the bones of Jotunns and Aesir were particularly dense, which kept his delicate metacarpals from breaking under the impact, but that didn't stop it from stinging like a bitch.

"No one's coming for you."

The first man pulled a glittering but flimsy peice of metal from his pocket- Two rings attached by a small chain- and snapped them around the struggling Loki's wrists, chaining him to a steel pole.

'Screw this vow of Thor's, this is so humiliating. I refuse to be forced to submit like this-'

"Wonder if he gives good head?"

'That's it, Thor. I don't care about my promise, I know I've never broken my word- and I swear I won't hurt anyone else after this, but _I will **kill** them._'

He snarled in his mind, and he tried to reach for a spark of magic in his mind as he yanked against the steel pole... and he found, not only could he not make the proper hand gestures due to his restraints, he found that he could not find a single hint of his magicks in his mind. And that thought panicked him even further, to the point where he couldn't even remember the words to the verbal spell.

His wrists then strained against the chains and against the pole, a weak attempt to rely on his physical strength.

Not for the first time, Loki cursed all the worlds in the universe that he was still so damned weak. Even though he was far weaker than Thor ever was, at full strength, he still should've been able to dislodge a road sign from the ground- At no little effort on his part, true, but still. Now, he probably would've only been able to carry a Midgardian for more than few miles before collapsing, and he definitely didn't have enough strength to rip through a steel pole, rusting though it may be.

"Yeah, who would want to rescue a whiny bitch like you? You can just forget about it, no one's gonna come for you."

"We're gonna make you wish you were dead, pretty boy."

The dark prince of Asgard had never felt so helpless as he did now, and he hated it, he hated it so much. It wasn't as if he hadn't been defiled like this before, but never by Midgardians, those who were so _beneath_ him-

Gods, he wasn't even sure what Midgardian males _looked_ like down there, and he guessed he would never know as he was flat on his face- But he knew, it would burn, it would _burn, _He could _feel_ heat emanating off the two men.

His skin was already so cold- his only defense mechanism left, a fresh breath of air filled with the scent of Jotunheimr frost.

Too bad his body had no idea that this would make the pain worsen.

Loki screamed as his pants were ripped down to his knees. He could feel a knife blade being skated acrossed his bare legs and up inbetween them, up where he was still aching from the last time-

And the little breath he had left him swiftly- No, they wouldn't.

"He's awful tight-" A prod from the sharp point of the knife- Oh My Gods. Loki's eyes were still wide, and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't_breathe-_

"Coulda fooled me, he sure looks easy- Aren't you-" The man stepped on his arm, testing.

"Eh, it's too bad for him, I guess-"

"Mhmm." And Loki could practically hear the smile in his voice. "But don't worry, we'll open you right up-" And the point of the knife withdrew, and pressed into the flesh of his rear on his right side.

Loki seldom begged, but he was begging now, shamelessly so as the tip of the blade traced closer to him again.

"THOORRRR! THOR, PLEASE, I NEED YOUU!" Loki's eyes itched at the thought that Thor was just going to let him suffer like this.

They were right. Thor wasn't coming for him.

And he screamed as his skin tore.

* * *

Thor's usually golden brown face was stark white, and Tony was by now, extremely concerned. After Thor began swaying where he stood, he abandoned his fruit rollups and hovered his hands over Thor's arms, not knowing whether or not to try to support him.

Part of his mind was telling him that if he tried to hold Thor up he would be dragged down too, but courtesy demands that he help his comrade.

'Damn, I've been spending too much time around Steve. I'm getting all... Eesh. Righteous.'

"Woah... you don't look so good, are you okay?"

"There, hear that?" After a few beats of silence, Tony's eyes whipped back to Thor, eyebrows raised. Was he... All there?

"Hear what, exactly?"

"Can't you hear him?" Thor demanded, gaze snapping to the shorter man, grabbing him by the shoulders in a bruising grip.

"What?"

Thor looked at him incredulously, "Loki, can't you hear Loki screaming?" Thor's grip on the counter loosened, and he swayed violently.

"Um, no, I don't, actually." Tony said, "I think you need to lie down," And he led the larger man over to the couch, "JARVIS, Get Steve back up here right away,"

"On it, Sir."

"Okay, Thor, just... Lay down here, and I'll... Get you some... water-" Thor struggled, batting Tony's hands away. It was obvious that the larger man was beginning to panic, as his voice was starting to shake.

"No, no, He's calling me, I have to... I have to help him, He needs me."

"Loki is capable of handling himself," Tony said as he walked, faster than normal, over to the fridge, pouring clear gin into a glass, waving his hand above it, hoping the smell was unnoticeable.

"No, you don't understand, he needs me. He won't fight, He promised me he wouldn't!"

Tony furrowed his brow as his attempts to hold the God down on the couch were tossed aside, "Um, I don't know how to break this to you, but your brother is notorious for his lies. Now here, knock this back-"

Thor pushed the glass away- "In all Loki's years, he has never gone back on his word. Not once." Thor shook his head rapidly, And he spoke at double speed, words almost blurring into one another.

"He misunderstood my promise. I wanted him to vow never to use his magicks for his own agenda ever again, never to harm anyone for his own gain. I didn't mean to say that he couldn't defend himself- I only meant that his power should be used to protect those who cannot protect themselves- But that's how it came out when I said it, And now he's in trouble and it's my fault. He's already weak from spending time in Asgard's prison, and if he doesn't even try to fight now, he's practically helpless- He gave his word, and now he's going to be hurt terribly- "

Tony then shoved the glass into Thor's hand, and closed the blonde's fingers around it, "Calm down, _now._ Drink." He then made a motion of tilting his head back, indicating that it should be one swallow; Thor obeyed, and promptly sprayed the mouthful onto the ground, coughing, eyes watering profusely.

"That is the most vile water I've ever tasted-"

"Woulda made you feel a helluva lot better-"

"Stark, please, he's in danger-"

"He'll be _fine, _Thor-" And This time, Thor's tone was a desperate whisper.

"He's pleading, Stark. Loki. Never. Begs." The winds of the hurricane outside sounded like screaming.

* * *

Loki's chest touched the ground, and he whined in exhaustion as his head was stepped on and pressed into the mud. He couldn't _breathe_. Even when he managed to draw in a choked gasp, the heavy rain was drawn into his airways, furthering his problem.

The air was cold on his body as it hit his wet and bare skin. His brother's storms had always comforted him, but now it only drove in the truth that he felt. Thor wasn't coming for him. He had been abandoned on Midgard, Just as he had done to Thor.

Loki screamed until his throat bled, kicked until he pulled every muscle in his legs, he yanked on the cuffs until his wrists were lined with red.

He bled and bled, his back felt like it was on fire.

At least he wouldn't become with child. He wouldn't enter heat again until spring. As much as he loved his children, he couldn't stand to have another one, just to live without a mother, and without a father for their whole lives again.

Another cry of shameful pain escaped him as the knife was finally drawn out of him and replaced by flesh.

The ultimate humiliation.

And it burned, it burned so much, the heat was so intense he swore his skin was searing and peeling away, he swore he was charring inside and turning black.

"Thor," He whispered.

And rage boiled beneath his skin as lightning flashed above him, lighting the faces up the faces of Doom's spies for a fraction of a second. He would kill them, He swore on his life, he would kill them one day.

He would hunt them to his dying breath.

* * *

"There, didn't you hear? He called again, he needs me, you must help me find him!" Thor said frantically, running his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth.

"Thor, I think you're hearing things, I seriously couldn't hear anything."

"Loki's not calling you, Thor," Steve said comfortingly, "I think you need to calm down,"

"NO! Somebody's hurting him, _Right now!_" Thor slammed his fist down on the countertop, sending hairline cracks towards the edges. "You cannot just ignore him, he's so close!"

"Thor, Loki's on Asgard right no-" Steve said, before both Tony and Thor cut him off,

"No, he isn't!" They said.

"Wait, you knew?" Tony said, almost at the same time Thor said,

"How did you know?"

"Never mind," Steve said, "So, where is he then?"

Thor paced anxiously, picking up Mjolnir and spinning it by the handle in his hands, nervously. Thunder roared and wind whipped at the windows. "He's somewhere in New York. I brought him back after his punishment, and we parted ways. He is still weak from his ordeal-"

"Wait, what kind of punishments do they have on Asgard?"

"Well, Loki was already weak from his encounters with Thanos, and then from our battles, and then he was imprisoned. Father only wanted Loki detained, but he never did go to visit him. I did. The guards always did like their fun with the prisoners." Thor said sickly, looking a bit green. "With his magicks blocked inside his cell, and his physical strength gone, no mercy was shown to him."

"I asked for his release, and Father agreed, but on the grounds that he have his mouth sewn again,"

Tony felt ill. "That's sick."

"He wasn't even fully healed when we parted ways." Thor said gruffly, "Even if he did break his vow, and try to fight, he is very weak still. Even trying to teleport would be too dangerous, he might leave some pieces behind," Thor ran his hands through his hair, still pacing wildly. "He might even die-"

"Thor... Even taking all this into consideration, We would never be able to find him at this time, or in this weather."

Thor collapsed to his knees on the kitchen floor, letting out an unearthly wail. And the storm outside roared.

* * *

Weeks had gone by and Thor still wouldn't sleep. He spent his time wandering around Avengers Tower, looking completely lost and alone.

Steve and Tony kept quiet about Loki being on Midgard. Even when Thor collapsed in the middle of the hallway, dark circles extending down his cheeks, Steve and Tony said nothing, and didn't reveal the source of his upset.

All Tony could do was hope that Loki was still alive. If he wasn't, He knew Thor would be destroyed.

'Listen, Loki you bastard. Don't you _dare_ be dead.'

* * *

"You really are a little bitch, you know that?" _SMACK_

"Fuck you!" Loki shouted, voice filled with pain as he was shoved out of the door onto the ground. He wiped blood from his mouth with the heel of his hand, getting up and limping away.

His freedom was bittersweet, because this time he knew exactly what to do and where to go.

And not for the last time, he wished for death.

* * *

Thor started refusing to eat.

"Come on, Thor, Just one Poptart," Steve begged.

Thor sat there silent, unblinking, unmoving. He hadn't moved for hours. He was just... waiting for something.

"It's pointless Capsicle, just leave him alone. He's mourning."

Thor jerked then. Tony winced. Thor always did go into shock whenever he or Steve referred to Loki as if he were already dead.

* * *

Tony Stark had always wanted a sibling when he was a child.

Someone to play with, someone to be with. Someone to be his friend.

His parents had always ignored him. His father was too wrapped up in work, and his mother was too wrapped up in her own aloneness to see that her son felt so very neglected.

And after all he did to impress them, building amazing machines at young ages, graduating College so early, they didn't even care. His family didn't care about him.

They died thinking that his only worth was being a whore who did nothing but party. They never knew the man he would become.

His father never would know that Tony's only memories of him ever being happy, was when he talked about Captain America. Tony's child idol, someone he loved and hated more than anything.

Steve Rogers had always been loved by Howard. More than he loved his own son.

A sibling. Someone to fill the emptiness with. Someone who knew that he was a real boy, and not just a doll who didn't care if you got tired of playing with it.

Then again, his childhood dream of siblings failing him was probably for the best anyways. A boy would've been corrupted by his bad example, and a girl would've been as well. A brother would've been a drug addict, and a sister would've been a whore.

But still, it would've curbed the loneliness.

He never thought he would live to see Thor, the mightiest of the avengers, break down like this.

Perhaps a sibling was even more precious than Tony thought.

* * *

Loki sighed, and squirmed on the park bench, ignoring the hideous pain in his backside. The stitches he had put in had sapped the bit of Magicks he had regained. It was better than becoming infected, and having his organs slowly eaten out, he supposed.

How many days had he been sitting here now? His whole body was stiff, and he ached each time he moved.

It didn't matter how long he had to wait, he knew what he had to do.

His eyes fixated on a little girl playing near him.

And he smiled widely.

* * *

Please Review.


	5. Chapter 5

AN-**Please read all review responses and Author's notes- Sometimes I leave extra explanation in there that wasn't included in the 'goods'. ^-^**

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Thank you to those who favorited/followed - PS ILUUUU (I also love everyone's creative names ^-^)

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Thanks to those who reviewed- PS I love you the most ^-^

NinjaCookieXD: Cliffhanger... Ooooooooohhhh. Ooh Ooh. That was like my scary nightmare of myself. ^-^ I hate cliffhangers- Cuz I don't like waiting for the next chapters but I've gotta and I will because I love the stories and their stupid cliffhangers so much. TT-TT

JuMiKu: Loki didn't _lie_ in his explanation. He just _left out_ some key points that could make it his fault completely. ^-^  
After all, any sensible person would construe two out of four of his children as a threat (given how monstrous they are (Freaking gigantic wolf and vicious sea dragon)), and he _did_ technically send his younger brother to his death out of pure jealousy, and his intentions weren't _really_ honorable when he was taking Asgard's throne for himself.

Ah Yes... ._. A knife. Midgard was not kind to him this time around and will probably continue to force feed him barbed wire for the forseeable future. We'll see some more lip sewing and some more blood and weakness, and We'll also probably see some rapist murder later on, maybe committed by Tony, Thor, or Loki. *Shrug* Don't know at this point. I didn't really think this through at all, this was just supposed to be bunches of one-shots of Tony seeing Loki in random places doing stupid childish things. :/ But I sort of negated that idea when I made the angst chapters...

Fluff is not made of tears and blood vomit. (that's why I don't write fluff (hardly ever))

And why didn't Steve and Tony help their poor Thor out? After all, they're all pals, they even went out together for schwarma!

Steve and Tony don't exactly know what to do when Thor starts 'hallucinating'. Steve actually thinks he's just really sick or something(Tony), really tired(Steve), needs a drink(Tony) and maybe just misses Loki to the point where he's going crazy(Tony/Steve). They would've tried to find him- but there's one thing stopping Thor from doing so. Thor and Loki have _always_ been able to sense eachother- Thor is traceable by the traces Mjolnir leaves, and Loki is traceable by the traces his magicks leave. Loki is usually so powerful that his magicks actually leak even when he isn't using spells.

As of now, Loki's magicks are GONE! Thor has NO idea where to find him at all!

cara-tanaka: Yep, like I said, he would've looked if he had any idea where to look or even a direction to go in, or evel a level (Street, building, roof). All he knows is that Loki is calling, and that he needs help. The chances of stumbling upon him are very close to zero.

* * *

AN- _**Keep in mind, This is the VERY FIRST Avengers fiction I've written ever. **__**I'm well aware that I'm really bad at writing Tony Stark dialogue and feelings, so please please be gentle with me, I'm still practicing. : )**_

_**-**Also, Loki has been away from his captors for about a week and a half now. _

_- And also, also, Thor did go and look for Loki for a little bit, but Steve brought him back._

_-The only real reason Loki is so panicky in this chapter is because I was just watching Light Yagami have a near nervous breakdown about almost being discovered to be Kira. (Anyways, Loki wouldn't feel comfortable in a crowded area of Midgardians with no powers and no armor anyways, so get over it, you guys)_

_I'm telling you this because it's relevent to the plot (or lack thereof, haven't decided yet)_

* * *

Thor curled up on the ground, head pressed into his knees. His heart ached in his chest as it searched, still, for a sign or a call, still yearning and longing for something.

Something precious and ethereal, something fragile and tricky. Something valuable and irreplaceable. Something with green eyes and the most gorgeous, albeit rare, smile in all the nine realms.

'Call me again, please Brother. Just once more. _Please.'_

Thor twitched, fingers curling into his legs. He turned his head to the side, uncurling his aching legs. 'Speak to me, Loki. Tell me where you are.'

Thor stood, pacing, further stretching his cramped and unused leg muscles. He placed his hands to his face, reaching with his mind, trying to feel out a bit of his brothers presence. The wind ruffled his hair as he stood on the roof of Stark Tower.

Inhaling deeply, he tried to bring in even a trace of his brother's signature, a bit of his magicks. He could still feel the tiny remnants of the already fragmented presence Loki had left when he had been coughing up blood onto the ground, tearing thread from his mouth, but that did not give him any hint to where he had gone. There was nothing else.

All that was left, was the single clear signature of the word of healing he had written in the air. The bleeding had stopped then and the holes had closed, leaving inflamed, pink marks. He had hardly been able to speak as he told Thor that he had to leave, but that he would stay in New York City- after hearing Thor's protests about his departure, of course. After using a 'world-bend' spell, Loki had disappeared, and Thor was left with nothing but the sweet aroma of cleverness and melancholic laughter before it was swept away by the wind.

Even the traces of the spell Loki had used to travel had been blown away with the wind. Thor could tell that he had traveled in the exact spot he was standing in now, as he felt Loki's presence strongest there, but he couldn't read where Loki had gone, even though that spot was filled with runes and signs he didn't understand; calculations and probably the location of his end destination.

He didn't know what they _meant_.

How he wished he had learned the spells as a child like Loki had. How he wished his father hadn't scoffed and called it work for the weak, and kept him from participating.

Then maybe... Just maybe he could've-

No.

'Do not dwell. You cannot. You will be swallowed-" He could almost hear Loki saying it to him. He just caught himself from whirling around to check if someone had actually spoken.

There was no point in thinking about what could've been, because whatever could've happened, didn't. It wasn't that way now and there was no changing it. All he had to work with was this roof top, and a rapidly shrinking window of time.

All the traces were here, and nowhere else, and they told him nothing. The only proof that Loki had ever come to Midgard again was here, and the traces were going stale after the few days they had been sitting.

Thor could see it like a murder scene in his head. He could still see Loki sprawled on the ground, dragging himself in his own blood, coughing and choking as he tried to draw breath through his sealed mouth. He could see his own hands clipping the bloodied strings, and he could see his baby brother's shaking white hands writing that single character in the air, white gold, before coaxing it to his lips with slender fingers.

He could see the grey pallor of his brother's skin as he shakily stood and grabbed his arm for support. He could hear him trying to speak, words coming thick through swollen lips, telling him that he would leave immediately and let Thor have his peace. He could hear the faint noise of Loki unzipping the air in front of him and stepping in. There was the faint noise of Loki's feet landing on slimy concrete, and then the closing the rip in space behind him with a weak groan of effort.

After that, the traces had disappeared completely along with Loki's last bits of energy.

'Just whisper my name, Just one more time- You have to have _some_ energy regained by now. You _must_, so why can't I feel you? You can't be _hiding_, even when you hide, you're obvious to me. Just please, call me, and I'll come to you even if I have to tear down the whole country. I'll come to save you.'

Thor's fists tightened as again, visions floated into his head. Visions of Asgards jailors came quickly and sharply; Rough hands were beating and forcing a muddy and bruised body that had once been white as snow down by the neck and defiling its sanctity, turning it into one big mess of red. He could see the cuts, he could hear the gurgle of internal hemoragging, he could feel the tiny rasp of breath through broken ribs. He could see every purple and black spot covering thin hips, he could hear the faint whimpers and the screams as night terrors roared in his brothers ears. He could feel the invisible hands running over his destroyed, emaciated brother's body, violating him so brutally.

What was happening to Loki at this very moment? Had the torture stopped, Thor wondered, because Loki had quieted down. Or had he only been gagged, and was still being held against his will and being hurt so very badly.

And why, why wouldn't Loki just call him one more time? Had he finally broken, under the impression that Thor had abandoned him?

'This was just like with Jormungandr. He thinks that I know about it, and that I want him to be violated, punished. He thinks that I planned it, to force him to learn his lesson.' Just the thought made Thor feel like he was going to be ill.

Loki had given up. Was that it? No, no, he would call again. Just once more. He would.

'Even a whisper, Loki. It's only one word. One _syllable. _Does my name burn on your lips and sting your tongue so much that you can no longer call me? Does it stain your pride so permanently to ask for help?'

Those screams had been _horrible_. And even more horrible was that there was no getting around the fact that the only traces of Loki in the air, were too faint to track.

Thor cursed himself for not forcing Loki to stay with him until he had been further healed, at least until his magicks were strong enough to leave behind trails, until it was strong enough to leak like it always did, until it gave off those signals, those signs that Thor could always use to find his younger brother again.

They had all but disappeared, and all that he could hear at the time was his voice.

Loki, the once proud and disdainful God, he who was so above the mortals despite how crushed he was under the boot of everyone in Asgard, he who was so powerful and invincible, was screaming and begging for mercy.

For _Help._

Thor would've searched New York high and low, had it not been for the whisper of logic in his ear. 'You cannot tell how far away he is, or if he's inside a building, or underground, or anything. You can't tell who's hurting him, if it's one person, or if it's a group, you can't tell if he's chained, or if he's loose, running until his lungs are aching. _His voice alone isn't enough_- He's used up all his magicks, and there's no other way to find him.'

And that just broke his heart.

Worse still, Stark and Rogers hadn't truly understood the source of his upset, his _distress_. They hadn't been able to hear that voice, usually velvet smooth, being torn raw in a throat- high pitched, panicked screams that drew blood from the force put behind them, screams filled with so much _pain._

They couldn't hear it like he could and so they convinced themselves that there was nothing wrong, that he was delusional.

After all, that was the nature of Midgardians. Even if a murder was being commited in the next room over, a Midgardian would latch onto any single tiny chance that nothing was wrong, that it was just loud sex, or a misunderstanding, or an argument and that they didn't need to go help. If a spiders thread was hung in front of them as a way out of helping another person, they would cling to it. If there was a single one chance to a million that they could ignore it and walk away, they would.

Such are Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. Even though they are heroes, it is in their nature to abandon those that they cannot see directly in front of their eyes.

And that is why Steve had forced him to stop searching New York's streets, That is why Tony Stark kept trying to force alcohol down his throat. Nothing was wrong, everything was okay.

Even Loki's lies were never so foul as that.

After Thor had stopped fussing and asking for help, they had told him to go get into bed.

He didn't tell them that the screams had gone on for days, that they were real, and that they came from the throat of a lost and forlorn little boy, a boy that Thor loved more dearly, more desperately that anything, a boy that he held the very closest to his heart.

They didn't understand, neither of them. Neither of them had had siblings; They could never understand this pain of losing someone so close.

Loki was Thor's most valuable possessions, second not even to Mjolnir. Thor needed to protect Loki. Loki was fragile.

Because Loki had a set of brick walls built high around him, walls that he didn't let anyone see inside, but he so desperately wanted someone to care enough to climb over them, to break them down and to meet him there, so that he could stop waiting in despair, so that he could be free. Because Loki put up a shell that was too thick for anyone, but inside he was a glass ball, waiting for cracks in trembling terror, waiting for blows to come. Because Loki denied that he had ever felt pain when inside he was a knot of open pulsating bloody nerves, a mess of hurt. Because Loki's pain threshold was high, but he was hurt inside, an inch from death.

Because Loki denied that he wanted company, when in reality he was love-starved. Because Loki denied that he cared what Odin and what Asgard thought, when in reality his brother's shadow was chaining him in place, always blocking the sun from his face, always outshined. Because Loki outwardly blamed Thor for his misfortune, when he really thought that perhaps it was something that he had done in the beginning to deserve it all.

Because Loki shoved Thor out of his room, when he just wanted to drag him back inside. Because when Loki shoved Thor's arms off him, he just wanted to melt into them and never be let go.

Because Loki said, 'I don't want to talk,' When he really meant, 'Listen to me,'. Because Loki said 'I forgive you,' even when he still held a grudge and wanted to spit, 'I'll never forgive you, never'. Because when Loki said 'Go away' he meant, 'Never leave me,'. Because when Loki said 'It doesn't matter,' it means 'I know that it doesn't matter to you,'.

Because when he says 'I hate you, Thor, I wish you were dead,' he was begging, 'Thor, love me still, love me like no one else does, love me despite all I've done. Love me like the brother that I'm not, Love me, Love me like I've loved you.'

'Please.'

But no one understood Loki's signals, no one cared enough to, no one cared enough to climb over the wall and meet him, naked, clean and white; smiling and waiting, waiting for someone who deserved to come inside. Nobody knew of that Loki. No one knew that he existed. Not even Loki really knew of it anymore. No one did.

Except for Thor.

And that was why Steve and Tony could never understand. They hadn't even known Loki long enough to be able to read a single thing off his face. All they knew was the ball of barely contained homicidal jealous rage that had destroyed their planet. They had never known the gentle, childlike, innocent Loki. They had never known the clever, witty, and engaged Loki. They had never known the Loki who smiled when he wanted to cry, who could keep his face perfectly smooth even when wrath and fire was burning and raging in his eyes. They had never known the passive and empty Loki, or the passionate and vicious Loki. They had hardly even met the Loki Thor knew. The Loki that Thor remembered, and knew was still in there, somewhere, waiting behind a set of walls, watching as they built themselves higher and higher, eyes still green, smile set firmly in place.

They just couldn't understand Thor's _loss_.

Not Steve Rogers who had left behind everyone he had ever known coming out of the ice, the soldier out of time. He who had left behind a family, and a woman who loved him, had no way of grasping Thor's loss. He couldn't even come close to understanding his pain.

Not Anthony Stark who had lost everything so early on that it was as if he had never had it. He couldn't understand, even though he had to suffer the pain of having no real friends, nobody to care about him, constantly alone.

They could not love someone as an Asgardian could, Asgardians who could live for so very many Midgardian years, and know and love another for so long. They could never create such a relationship with someone else

Neither of them could truly understand, and therefore neither of them could truly care, not _truly. _Not when Loki's troubles weren't as tangible to them as they were to Thor.

The only real comfort that they offered was that they did not tell anyone that Loki was on Midgard. Beyond that, they had nothing to give. Steve's kind words and gentle soothing hands did not console him, Anthony's rough shoulder chucks and alcohol had not shocked him out of his 'funk'.

After he stopped squirming and worrying vocally, they thought that he couldn't hear it anymore and didn't understand why he wouldn't eat, why he couldn't train properly, why he was still worried.

But how could he eat or sleep with the noise ringing in his head? How could he focus on anything other than the pleads? How could he not feel wracked with guilt when the screams were specifically for him, asking him for help, something his brother seldom did?

The only other time Loki had become desperate enough to ask Thor himself for help was when he was trying to find a way to keep his children safe. In court when the chains were brought for Fenrir, when they had thrown Jormungandr into the world sea. When he was prostrate before Odin, he had asked calmly, but he was later sprawled on the ground in clear distress, begging and groveling at Thor's feet. That was the only time.

Thor could not help him that one time though, and Loki had become a shell for the following months, at least a year. Laying in bed, never rising, never even getting up to eat or wash. His hair had turned greasy and his eyes were wild, and there was nothing behind them. He didn't answer questions, and didn't even look like he could hear anything. He was greiving. Much like Frigga had mourned the loss of Baldur. After that betrayal of Loki's pride and trust, he had never again asked for even the tiniest favor. Loki had never so much as asked Thor to close a window.

Loki didn't ask for help. He saw it as weak, that he was opening his chest plates up for a blow, that needing help meant that Thor was beating him. He always wanted everyone's approval. He tried to draw attention to himself. He gave mixed messages. And he didn't ask for help, especially not from Thor.

'He hadn't called for me when he was in prison, not when guards were beating him, not when he was falling through space, not ever. And he could've so easily, with almost no effort at all.'

Not until now.

That made the cries so much more heavy on Thor's shoulders. He might've not been the one hurting Loki directly, but he was allowing it to happen just by sitting here helpless. It was not as if he could not go and physically look for his brother again, but what were the odds of finding him? It was like Tony and Steve said, there wasn't a point. All he could do was listen.

The pleads went on and off for three whole days, and after that had come the worst thing of all.

Silence.

* * *

_In out, One two. Again._

"HhHHHhn... Hhhhhhah." A breath of air left bruised ribs as a large gust passed through an aching body.

_Again._

_"_Hhhnn... Hhhaaah." A flutter of an eyelid, the quirk of an upperlip into an almost smile. An eyebrow arched, proud even in weakness.

_Again._

Loki blinked, drawing in breath, opened his eyes, feeling absolute calm and warmth flooding through his entire being, before it was brutally shattered by a pair of eyes.

He flinched horribly at the feeling of a pair of peeping eyes on the back of his head and whipped around to shoot a death glare towards the woman who was staring. The nerve of some Midgardians, Really. It wasn't as if he was chewing on his own feet, he was just using an energy-drawing position to bring strength back to him. It was perfectly acceptable, and polite. It wasn't obnoxious at all, he wasn't making any noise and he was keeping too himself, they're just being nosy, those Midgardians, He wasn't being weird, he wasn't doing anything that was unacceptable on Midgard as far as his knowledge extended, and they were just staring for no reason at all, and it wasn't his fault, and 'Odin's Ravens, I'm feeling faint-'

Privately Loki knew that he was being a teensy bit too defensive, knowing that her eyes had just slid over him, not even glancing really, but out here without his armor, he could feel every single eyeball sliding over him. Like dirty greedy fingers, like tongues, like embers from a fire, being pressed into his skin and dragged-

He felt weak. Exposed. _Vulnerable._

He'd never felt like this before. He was used to the faint thrum of energy underneath his skin, almost in tune with his own heartbeat. But now, now he almost felt mortal, he could almost feel the world withering and dying around him, he could almost feel himself aging.

Even when he'd fallen through space, been captured and thoroughly degraded by Thanos, with his powers utterly depleted, he had still had quite a means to use his power, and still had enough to perform well enough in combat; Not enough to pose a real match for Thor, but enough to avoid death.

This, was just cold emptiness. He knew, this must be, 'This must be just what dying feels like.' And he felt such sympathy for Midgardians in that one moment, how horrible it must be to feel one's self become older, become closer to death by every single second that passes by, so much so that you can feel your life leaving you a little at a time-

It was vile. It made him feel ill.

And the glances, again, felt akin to hands. Once again the hysterical thought shot acrossed the slab of mind right behind his mind- Was this really so unacceptable, to not sit perfectly proper on a bench? But then again, there were some Mortals here just _sleeping_ on benches, surely it couldn't be so bad what he was doing?

'They're just glancing. Stop getting nervous, Loki. You're being paranoid.' He swallowed thickly as he felt a wave of raw hysteria pass through him, quickly followed by pure, unadulterated panic. His hands began shaking. 'It's okay, just calm yourself. Don't be panicked. No one's watching. Just caaalllmm down. You may feel like an infant, but Midgardians don't hurt infants, they won't get you, they'll leave you alone. They're only looking. No need to be so anxious, just breathe slowly.' Even his mind was becoming less eloquent in it's speech, more by the moment.

A voice was heard in the back of his mind and he jumped a few inches at how clear it was. _Perfomance anxiety?_

'Yes, yes that's exactly what this is. Damn you, Anthony Stark. How dare you insult me so...' Loki's lower lip twitched, 'Well, you have that now... That's what this is, isn't it? Performance anxiety. Oh Dear, I feel sick. What if I fail, Oh Sweet Kami, What if I fail?!' And he was positive, had he been speaking aloud, his velvet smooth voice would've risen hysterically._  
_

He swallowed, feeling sick to his stomach as someone walked past his bench. He felt like he was being circled, targeted, born down upon by the very _air._

_Again._

The calming breath did him good, and his muscles relaxed as another wave of energy filled him. Even though the increase of magicks under his skin put more pressure onto his body, making his head pound and his stomach twist, the energy still felt absolutely delicious.

It made him feel competent, that he could accomplish what he needed to do. He had to, so there was no reason worrying about failing. Any effort was better than no effort. Besides, he was feeling stronger all the time, even if only by tiny increments.

Perhaps soon enough, he would be able to dislodge road signs as he normally could.

He had his legs crossed and folded under him, pressed into the bench, palms flat and turned upwards on his knees, back straight but leaned forward, head pointed down so that his forehead was only a few inches away of being level with his knees.

He had read about this in a book on regaining spell power without using magic, techniques that could draw strength back to a body more quickly than just waiting, and apparently body position helped tremendously in said technique.

Unfortunately, at the present time he had to draw in energy, and watch the park, the place he would cast the spell upon at the same time, because he didn't know exactly what time he'd need to start casting it.

He had always thought that he'd be able to do this alone where no one could see him, but no, he had to do this in public. It wasn't so strange seeming to him, the position, but he supposed that to Midgardians who didn't believe in magicks and had no idea what he was doing, it probably was. And this made him panicky and light-headed.

'People aren't staring, they're not, they're just curious Loki, it just curiosity, calm yourself.' He could almost feel a sob rise in the back of his throat as his heart constricted in panic. 'They're not going to take you away, They won't hurt you, no one's going to hurt you ever again, you're alright,' And really, it was pathetic how he was trying to comfort himself, like he was trying to be his own mother.

The stitches he had put in his rear end itched and burned and _screamed_ in protest as he sat back up, back straight against the bench, and he was sure that he was bleeding again into his pants, if only just a little. He couldn't think of that now though, lest he be tempted to use the little power he had gained to heal himself further.

He couldn't afford it, not when he had such important work to do.

_Focus. Again._

Again he resumed position, spreading his shaking fingers.

He breathed in sharply, tensing his stomach muscles, pulling in the energy and letting it swirl in his stomach, letting it chase away the nausea, increasing the chokehold that the air pressure had on him. He could tell now, why magic users hadn't survived on Midgard. The atmosphere was suffocating, and the more magicks he took in, the more he felt as though two large cushions were being pressed over his body. He wondered if Thor ever felt like this; fidgety, uncomfortable. Perhaps it was just the foreignness of the place.

He tensed his stomach muscles once again in effort and gasped as a clump of energy entered his palms and shot into his chest like fire.

Yes, he could definitely feel blood being expelled from his body now in larger quantities, in fact he was sure there was a wet spot of red in his undergarments by this time. He could feel the stitches digging into his already torn skin, grating on his insides, and he could remember the greedy dirty fingers, cutting his skin, flesh invading him, _burning him-_

He could've sworn, from the heat alone, that the Midgardian skin touching him like that had seared and burnt away his flesh, but as he checked himself over and sewed himself up, he had found that there wasn't even a single sign of a burn. He would've sworn on his life, and Thor's as well, that his skin had been peeled off from the heat, that he had had burns and scorch marks all over his body; The aroused state of the Midgardian had turned their skin to lava, it was some horrible torture device that he'd never heard of, something that the books on Midgardians hadn't mentioned, he hadn't known that the mortals could make their skin blaze if they so chose.

He had felt like he was being pressed into with a white hot poker- Sweet Vanaheim, it had burned.

_Focus. Again._

The power up technique was working better than expected. He needed quite a bit of power for the spell he knew he would need to perform, and he had been drawing in energy nonverbally in this way for days. Not because the spell was difficult, but because it would be large, covering a great distance of space; the entire park. This power up position was slow going, even if it sped things up considerably.

He was lucky that he had studied this, even though he had thought it useless at the time. Had he not, he would've been walking prey.

He could feel energy swirling inside of him, dancing through his veins, making him feel so _alive_. It tingled in his palms and swelled in his chest. His eyes narrowed as hair fell in front of them, head leaned down so low; He focused on a specific blade of grass on the ground to concentrate himself.

'Perhaps another position would help.'

Sitting back up again, he stretched his aching legs out in front of him as he focused on a piece of air right in front of him. He curled his fingers slightly in effort, the backs of his hands showing his metacarpals as he tensed them. He pulled in a large knot of energy in a quick burst. Head swimming, he flopped back against the bench, panting slightly. This took quite a bit of physical effort; almost as much as heavy spell casting.

It wasn't long before he began to twist in on himself again, anxiety forcing him to draw his limbs close to his body in subconscious protection. His Midgardian clothing felt so very thin, exposing him to everything. Dark pants and a nearly transparent white button-up shirt made him feel as vulnerable as if he were naked. He could actually feel the wind through his clothes, and this frightened him. He pulled his legs to his chest, curling his fingers into his knees as he began to shiver violently.

He felt a chill pass through his very bones, freezing in his blood, and he could almost envision his pale skin as a bright ugly blue- For a moment he was shocked, staring intently at his bare wrist.

After a moment he decided that it was just a vein showing through his skin. Paranoia was closing in on him, and this made him feel even more cornered. He drew his arms close to his chest, eyes darting around wildly at the Midgardians passing by on the street near him, those loud metal beetles that they rode in where whizzing past, louder metal birds passing over head, marring the sky with their smoke trails.

'Perhaps they breathe fire.' Loki thought. The noise was choking him.

'I don't like all this noise. I don't like it at all,' Loki thought as a door slammed to a shop acrossed the road. Someone honked their horn at the stoplight and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

And the Midgardians, they didn't seem to be going anywhere really, they crossed the large pathway that their metal cases slid on, but it didn't seem like an individual was allowed to walk on this roadway, only their carriers.

'But then what are the lines in the middle for? Oh never mind,' He buried his face in his knees. 'I really should've read more current books on Midgard before deciding to conquer it. I mean, Aesir pretend to be more advanced, but we have nothing like this; The mortals have taken steps frighteningly fast. They don't resemble anything like what I saw when we came before. I really understand none of this. I didn't have to before, when I was the Fallen King Loki. But now I'm just wandering. I don't know how to do anything.' And Loki's eyes closed with a sigh. A beat of peace and worry-free silence passed through him.

His shoulders hitched up to almost his ears as his head whipped up. Bor above, would they stop the staring already? His hands shook as they could almost feel metal closing around them again, holding him in place. He didn't want to be taken away.

'They're not staring, stop being so self-conscious- They'll think you've gone completely round the bend if you keep this up. Paranoia will be your downfall. They're just Midgardians.'

This was no consolation. Midgardians did horrible things. They had _no_ sense of honor, they were _petty_, they _stole_ and _cheated_, and _killed_ their own, they defiled _children_, they _exploited_ one another to their own ends. Their only desires, and real motivations were sex and money; _Power_. That is what power was on Midgard. Being able to kill the other before they killed you. It was all a mad scramble for their own wants, and never the needs. Never mind who's face you placed your foot on to help yourself climb. Never mind who's knee you were stabbing to use as a handhold, just as long as you were getting up further.

They were monsters.

Frightening red eyes flooded through his mind and his heart squeezed in his chest. 'I'm not. I'm not like them, I swear, I'm not.' Sorrow ran thick through his ears and out his mouth in a gasp.

After a few moments of dragging out incredible courage that he felt pathetic for needing to gather, he flexed the muscles of his back and of his legs, and rolled his head around, cracking his joints. He felt so stiff, and so very very sore. Being dragged into an alley and groped had been bad enough, but sitting on a park bench for days on end, squashing the pointy stitches into his tender skin, now slick and warm from blood, curling his legs into such a cramped position, leaning his neck and back forward for so long, had made the hurt so much worse.

He just _ached_ all over.

_Focus Loki, this is too important to get distracted at. Again._

Again, he leaned forward, only slightly this time, palms upwards. He kept his head erect, eyes darting around, over the mortal's faces and analyzed his surroundings thoroughly once again.

To help himself focus he drew the overview of the park in his head and thought the calculations and dimensions.

_'_This 'Central park' is 1.3 square miles. That's 843 acres. As of now, I could probably cover two hundred of those.' Loki grinned enthusiastically, feeling a bit manic, though he was still quite shaky. His confidence was flooding back, along with a sense of violent humor as he thought of what would ensue here.

This was too good. 'And if I didn't take an actual square mile and raise the thing a mile high, I could probably cover twice that. If I only raised it to about seven feet high, and kept it a mile wide and long, I'd probably be able to do more than two thirds.' His fingers curled on his knees as his teeth glistened in his smile. His lips twitched as the raw skin stretched. Still he grinned, feeling positively manic, smiling so wide that he thought it might tear off his face.

'Shouldn't be much longer now.' His skin prickled in anticipation and he gave a small, quiet giggle.

This would show everyone what he could really do. This would teach those Avengers to think him weak and useless. This would teach those super villains what his power was really like, that he didn't have to follow their plans, that he could have his own agenda if he wanted, that he wasn't a novelty, .

He was _sick_ of being considered a novelty, that he was useless, or was something that you could survive without. He frowned deeply.

He wasn't a doll, he wasn't a toy. He was a person with feelings. He didn't go away when he was set down on a shelf, he didn't die when you stopped playing with him or abandoned him. He wasn't a toy who didn't care if his maker played with him and loved him; he was a real child who could be an asset if he was allowed a real chance.

He smirked to himself, 'I'll show them all. I'll make them see. A bastard prince to two thrones can be just as good as anyone else. I was born to be a King, and I can still be one, even if I'm not on a throne.'

It would show them all what he was truly capable of. He would no longer stand to be beneath anyone.

Just thinking about casting the spell caused lust to curdle in his gut. How he had missed drawing the spell characters in the air in front of him. His canvas had been blank too long. His fingers twitched greedily.

'Time for some Mischief, Loki. Let's have a little fun.' A dark laugh escaped him as a child passed by with a ball in hand. 'Yes, this will be fun. It will be just hysterical. It'll have these Midgardians _dying_ laughing, I'm sure. I'm sure they'll be grateful. They'll be tripping over their gratitude.' And his laugh turned into a deep scowl.

_Again._

And he could feel the power surging in him, in through his palms and into his chest cavity, filling him up and keeping him warm, burning and tingling in his veins. He was faintly reminded of the Tesseract's power, of it's conviction, of the visions it had shown him, his choices and his goals, the buzz in his hand as he gripped the staff, channeling that haunting teal orb, being bent to it's will. Oh, all the things it had shown him. As that Selvig man had said, it was more than knowledge. The tesseract showed you truth. It makes you believe.

But this was entirely different, this conviction. This choice, was entirely his own.

He felt the rush of energy, exhiliration, adrenaline and pure ecstasy so thick in his flesh and being that he felt a tingle of hilarity. And his fingertips twitched as it pulsed through his muscles and tickled through his stomach with a different kind of burning. A tiny curl of hope fluttered through him, escaping his mouth in a puff. And blood still leaked out of him and his spine still ached and he could still feel rusty stakes driven into his chest, hot disgusting breath on his face demanding allegiance, but still the smile would not leave his cheeks.

He could feel his energy soaring back, coming faster than ever now.

And it felt so good.

* * *

Tony blinked, double taking as he walked, head turning to watch the man sitting on the park bench. Really, some people were just so strange here. Probably the only place weirder was California- Who would want to sleep on a park bench where anyone can pickpocket you- Wait-

...

Yep, Definitely Loki.

So he was okay then. He wasn't dead, or lying in an alley with his throat split. _Damn_ that man, Making Thor worry so. He had probably done it on purpose to torture Thor.

'Sick Fuck'. Tony snarled in his head. 'Banner was right, this guy's a bag of freaking cats. He just reeks crazy.'

'What is he even doing? Trying to get to know New York or something? I mean, he's out where anyone could see him, on the edge of Central Park... Just _sitting_ there.'

He wasn't even _sitting _really, he had his palms placed upwards on his knees, and his eyes focused on something Tony couldn't see. To top it all off, he was bending over so far that it looked like his frail, sweating body would snap in half. Was he doing freaking yoga on a park bench? There was yoga on Asgard?

No, that didn't really look like yoga; he was sweating too much.

What was he doing?! And why here?

Then again, _he_ shouldn't really be here either, he was going to hear it from Pepper later. He sighed. She was still a bit upset with him after they had broken things off. She kept saying that she wasn't upset, but Tony knew that she was. That was why she had made him go to the board meeting.

Stupid meetings. He shoudn't even have to go to them, he was a superhero, like in the X-men comic books, or like batman.

'I'm way better than batman. Someone who dresses up as a bat clearly has issues anyways... I guess he's not a drinker though,' Anyways, Iron man fights crime, he doesn't go to meetings like an office worker. He was a hero.

And Loki was a villain. His intentions were never honorable.

'Better not leave that then.' Tony smiled. This was quite a good alternative to a boring meeting filled with old men. 'Okay, let's spy on the horny god.'

Tony laughed once to himself as a sudden image of Thor smashing Loki into the pavement passed through his mind. He wondered what the blonde God would say when he found out Loki was fine. Would he hug him, or hit him? 'Best that I don't tell him, I think.' Tony shuddered as he could almost feel his bones snapping under a fist.

'So yeah, Houdini-'

Now that he was looking at Loki a bit harder, Tony could see that his nose looked a bit longer, jaw a bit sharper, eyes a bit softer- the subtly was probably what was fooling everyone.

'Just how Ted Bundy ran around for so long... Oh my God.' Tony's eyes went wide. 'You know, Loki sorta looks like him.'

'No, no, you're being stupid. Ted Bundy is _dead_, it's just some weird resemblance, okay?'

The face might've been changed slightly, probably on purpose, but Tony could tell it was Loki. The straightness of his back, and the way he tipped his chin upward like some aristocrat is what gave him away. Tony could finally taste some pride in the air that wasn't his own, some ego. It tasted good; the air around the pale God was a bit sweeter. It was strange.

Tony eyed Loki closer, raising his modified phone up to take a picture. Jarvis's voice controls were set to text, and the words scrolled acrossed the screen, confirming that it was indeed Thor's brother.

He looked distinctly sore, and was sitting rather awkwardly, as if he was trying not to distribute his weight on his rear- which was impossible when you're sitting, by the way. He held his emaciated body as if the whole thing was bruised badly. Perhaps something bad _had_ happened like Thor said.

But still, what was he doing _here,_ at this very _moment?_

Tony's heart jumped as he saw Loki watching a few small children play from his seat on the bench. The thin man scooted imperceptibly closer to watch the children romp and frolick, and a terrifying smile worthy of a pedophile spread over Loki's face. A smile that looked familiar, that Tony had seen in a picture before; a dead serial killer.

'Oh stop it, he doesn't even really look like him. He's just looking at them.'

After a moment, his heart slowed beneath the shield of the arc reactor. Perhaps the malicious glint had been a trick of the light, because whatever Tony had seen was gone now.

The children looked up and squealed in delight as an ice cream truck rolled past slowly, all getting up to run in its direction. Loki, the curious wisp that he was, gazed after them with a hungry expression filled with longing, and soon got up. He followed almost eagerly after a thorough stretch of the legs, neck and arms. Tony didn't miss the way his eyes never left the children.

The oldest; Blond and a bit louder than the others. He was obviously the boss and wanted everyone to know it. The middle child; Dark hair and too many frown lines for one so young. In fact, he looked as though he could be near the same age as the eldest boy, if not for his smaller size. The youngest; A little girl, beautiful, with long curly brown hair and sparkling eyes. Her smile was bright, and she held a quiet grace, constantly bubbling and gazing at everything, babbling and describing it all.

Loki watched her the closest, creeping towards them, transfixed, but seeming uneasy as his thin legs slowly followed behind them. It looked as though he wanted to crouch, to hunt like a cat.

Stark almost hit himself in the face as he realized how close he was watching the other man, his face and his body, even the way he walked. And most of all, the words he was using to describe the other. Graceful, elegant.

'Am I a twelve year old girl, or what?' He thought. After all, Loki was half limping- You could only be so graceful when you looked like you need a crutch. And really, he could just be waiting to abduct these kids.

Tony silently followed, now interested. After all, Burger King would wait for him.

'Burger King doesn't need me in a suit.' He scoffed to himself, 'Besides, the poor high school girls don't need to deal with me raking them.' He blinked. He didn't really like it when women stuttered and blushed at him anyways. Shyness was a whole nother story, but he never liked it when they blushed and giggled. It made him feel like A Jonas Brother or some other tweeny bopper.

He half wanted to see Loki victimize one of the children, just so he would have an actual excuse to arrest him. Well, it wasn't as if he already didn't, seeing as Loki was still a threat to security, but he hadn't actually _done _anything yet. At least not from Tony's point of view.

If he was here, he'd probably paid his debt on Asgard (which he suspected was a much heavier price than whatever Earth could throw Loki's way) and was free to walk around again. If he commited no further offense, then there was no reason to do anything to him. He, as Iron man, didn't need to put his feet into everything all of the time. He didn't like doing that.

He never did like having trouble with everybody.

Loki stood a few feet away from the children, watching _very_ intently as the oldest one, about eleven, dug in his pocket for a few crumpled bills and a few coins. The littlest one squealed and pointed at the ice-cream pictures on the side of the van. The younger boy, face holding something sarcastic and stormy, huffed as he tried to heft the girl into his arms so she could see the pictures easier.

"Helena, You're heavy-" His voice was low and rattled in his throat; he sounded like a sickly child. There was something disdainful and vain in it as well that was familiar.

Tony blinked as Loki startled and stared even more intently at them, inching forward, fingers twitching before he snapped his hands underneath his arms.

"Sorry, Lock. I juss' wannuh seezuh ice creams." Green eyes were wide as they took in the picture of the three children, fingers twitching as if he wanted to keep the moment forever but didn't know how.

The dark haired boy, turned to the older, "Thurstan, She's heavy- pay faster-"

"Shut up-" The blonde snarked, smiling, "If I can carry her then so can you." After a moment of furrowed brows, the smaller boy smiled too.

Tony saw, by now, Loki was shaking. The sun went behind the clouds. Thurstan further approached the ice cream van.

Tony squirmed inside as he realized that he was more concerned about who was driving the white van than Loki at the moment. Well, it was a woman, it turned out, and his concern lowered significantly, shifting his attention back to Loki.

"Sorry Kid, you don't got enough for all a'yas." The woman in the window of the van, was clearly from Queens.

The little girl's lip wobbled. Tony didn't miss the way Loki's face softened. A slender white finger with a long nail tapped on the eleven year old boy's shoulder. He kept his back to the darker child completely, as though he couldn't bear to glance at him.

"Might I pay for you?" Loki smiled kindly. Tony prided himself on expecting the unexpected, but this was just... And he... It was... Oh Lord. What? _What?!_

Was this the same Loki that had blown up Midtown?

"Are you sure?" The eleven year old said, and it was clear that he was struggling between two decisions. Most children were told never to make their friends parents pay for them, (And definitely not a stranger) but then again, ice cream held quite an allure.

And it wasn't as if Loki was dragging them into a car with blacked out windows.

"Quite sure." Loki patted the little girl's head, "There, there. Don't cry, Darling."

The little three year old sniffed, smiling shakily. After a moment of consideration, he squatted and inquired if it would be okay to pick her up. After a nod, Loki hitched her onto his hip as if it were a routine he was quite used to. Tony just blinked, absolutely gobsmacked. The woman in the ice cream truck's window also looked quite surprised, wondering if he was a child predator or just a kind soul.

This man never ceased to amaze him. He was definitely not the type who seemed to know how to hold a child properly.

'Derr, Stark, he's had kids before, right?' Tony asked himself, 'Yeah, so why shouldn't he know how to take care of one?'

"There, no more crying now, Your face is too pretty for tears." Loki wiped her face with his sleeve, gently, "You look so much like my little girl. Did you know that, Helena?"

The little girl shook her head, eyes impossibly wide.

"All right, are you buying food then, Thurstan?" Tony didn't miss the way the name had sounded like 'Thor's stone,' coming off of Loki's tongue. This was directed this towards the blonde, and Loki still ignored the middle child almost pointedly. After a hesitant nod, Loki approached the window of the vehicle warily, holding out a thick golden coin between two fingers, other arm, firm and secure around the little girls waist. "Here you are." The woman took it in her hand and stared at it a moment, face blank. Loki asked agitatedly, "Is this enough?" Finally he was acting a bit more like the way Stark expected him too. Annoyed. Above everything.

"What the heck iz 'is? I never seen this kind'a money-" The woman said, "Are ya foreign? You sound English ta'me. Iz 'is a pound?"

"Um... Yes." Tony rolled his eyes, "Do you not take them?"

The pouting dark haired boy who had been standing in silence, staring at Loki for a disturbingly long time, finally grumbled incoherently, face stormy, still glaring at his brother. This seemed to convince the woman to just take it. Tony was sure that she had no idea what that was worth, but it looked like solid gold to him.

He smirked, she had had no idea that she had just been made rich.

"Okay then, Whataya want kids?"

Loki had by then set the little girl down on the ground and left with a tiny smile on his face. As he passed the dark haired boy, he still didn't look at him, but he seemed to wilt, and a pained and surprisingly distraught expression took over his features.

He sat gingerly on the same bench, folding his legs beneath him, watching the children as they wandered back and played in their previous spot.

Green eyes went skyward as his head tilted back, and Tony couldn't miss the large bruises dotting his collar and up his neck. He hadn't yet seen the faded one around his eye until now either. He was positive now that Thor had been right.

Loki had been in quite the accident.

He looked positively skeletal. Like those pictures of Holocaust victims that survived the concentration camps. Emaciated, and hollow in the eyes.

Long lashes flickered as Loki's eyes followed a butterfly on a flowerbush. Tony almost laughed as with an imperceptible twitch of Loki's wrist, the curled antennae of the butterfly crusted golden, and the wings flushed green and became longer and more fluttery.

An expression of determination overcame Loki's face. Tony couldn't decide what that meant.

The God was soon distracted as the three year old girl toddled over to him, and asked him if he would lick the dripping ice cream from her cone. Loki of course, couldn't refuse, and squatted on the ground, tentatively sticking his tongue out, mouth closed, and licked it awkwardly after watching the way the girl did it.

He didn't look like he had expected the taste. Tony smiled as he nearly choked- He looked like a baby who had tasted the frozen treat for the first time, screwing up their face so violently. Soon Loki was coaxed over to the small group of children, rolling and playing in the grass.

Loki of course, sat civilly, even though he looked as though he desperately wanted to romp with them. He sent a watchful eye to the parent that was seated quite a ways away, in fact almost out of sight.

They lay in the grass, and he bribed the youngest child over under his arm and cuddled her close as he spoke of far away lands and great heroes. He held his body away from the little boy who had scootched close to him, inching in closer every few words. Loki swallowed, pausing in his story as Lock touched his forehead to his side just barely, fingers reaching to the white button up shirt, as if they wanted to fist.

He continued.

After listening to Loki finish his Asgardian fairy tale, the oldest piped up, rolling onto to his stomach.

"I've never heard that one. It was weird."

"The story was good. You should be our new daddy. Then you can tell us stories all the time," Helena said, large brown eyes gazing up to Loki's neutral face.

Lock's fingers curled.

"Helena, Shush." Thurstan said.

"I'm not good at being a father, darling. Besides, I think that your mother wouldn't want me to take your father's place." Loki nodded at her, using that voice that Toddler's seem to universally understand.

Thurstan then burst out with, "Our Dad's gone,"

"What... What happened to your father?"

Helena recited carefully, "Mommy threw him out because he was bad to us. And she said that he's got locked up for being bad, and now she keeps bringing us new daddies all the time. I don't like them at all. You should be our daddy now." She nodded as if that settled it.

Lock was by now, clinging to Loki's side and Loki was stiff and holding his arms up and away from him, eyes wide and frantic.

"Helena, Stop it. You can't say that to strangers." Thurstan looked up at Loki, "I'm so sorry, she just can't stop her words."

"No it's... I'm so sorry." Loki settled on that. "I'm sorry about your father."

"I don't miss him." Lock whispered into Loki's side. "I wish he was dead." Tony's blood chilled, and Loki paled.

"Don't say that." Loki whispered, not looking at the little boy". "Don't ever say that."

"I wish he was. He deserves it. He's bad." And Tony was by now shaking a little himself, his own words coming back to him as he remembered his graduation from boarding school. His father hadn't come, his mother hadn't come, and he had curled up on the bottom of the limosuine as he traveled home, his chauffeur comforting him as he was coaxed out.

"People change, it doesn't mean they deserve death." Still Loki would not look at the boy, as though his body repulsed him, or as though he were not there at all.

"He doesn't love us. Jail won't fix him." And the boy's eyes were big and round, and his fingers were clenched in the fabric of his shirt.

"Lock, stop it, Let him go!" Thurstan said, batting at the darker boy's hands. All of a sudden, the smaller boy had snapped off of him as though he had just realized what he was doing, scrambling away. He tucked his head down as if he were trying to hide in his neck, eyes dark.

Loki raised a hand to the huddled form, still keeping his eyes away, as though he wanted to comfort him, but at the last moment his hand fisted and he dropped it down.

"You can still play with us though, right?" Helena said brightly, never one to brood on anything at her age. Loki fingered the hem of her yellow sundress, nodding absently, attention still wholly on the quivering boy sitting near him.

Tony was almost positive that the boy was crying into his legs. He knew what that had been, it had probably been the boy's first taste of anything close to love from a father, or someone who could substitute as a father. And he knew how sad that was that you could try to leech off of a stranger like that, but that was just what he had done as a child. Even a pat on the head could make him follow someone like a puppy.

A single look from Loki would probably destroy that boy.

"Leapfrog, now, I wanna play that!"

"Ah, allright, tell me the rules-" Loki said, still obviously in another world.

Tony realized just how long he had been standing there spying without making his presence known. That horrible curse that Tony had had from birth, finally kicked in. He could stay silent no longer.

Silence might've been a natural state for him, but not when he was in public. In front of people, he was the life of the party, hell, he _was_ the party. He always had something to say, and he felt that urge now, he had to speak.

"Um, hey, What are you doing?"

Loki's whole body went rigid, and he stood fast. The three year old ducked behind his thin legs, peeking out. Lock picked up his soggy head and watched him with distrust written on his face. The oldest looked as though he recognized the famous Tony Stark but somehow managed to keep his mouth shut.

"I'm not doing anything." Loki's voice was soft, and slightly muffled. Pink scars dotted his lips. How had Tony missed those?

"Really, because that's not what it looks like, reindeer games."

"It doesn't look like anything." Loki said, ushering the little girl back to her siblings, before walking away, tossing his head back, sitting primly back on the bench. The children's eyes followed them curiously. Tony followed after, feeling embarressed to trail after anybody.

Loki had sat down too hard it seemed, and he made a small whimper, actual tears coming to his eyes. Tony saw his fingers itch towards his tear ducts, wiping them before they left, hissing all the while.

"Did you just walk away from me?" Tony Stark asked incredulously. No one had ever done that. Women never did that, men never did that, and definitely not his enemies.

"Yes." His voice was still soft, chin high and defiant.

Tony for the first time in his life, did not know what to say.

"Just..." Loki then let out a sigh, "Leave me be, Stark." After floundering momentarily, Tony was glad for the prompt as he was thrown back on track.

"Nope, not happening. I'm not gonna watch you send Central Park up in flames- put baby heads on spikes," Loki then looked as though he remembered something, and leaned forward, voice lowering.

"Stark, Listen, you need to leave here right away-" Loki now spoke earnestly, eyes darting around. Tony of course, egotistical as he was, could not allow this; Nothing was ever over until he said it was.

"I think maybe you should take a hint of your own advice and leave these people alone-"

"Don't argue with me!" Loki hissed, "It isn't safe here-"

Tony rolled his eyes, gesturing to the sunshine and flowers- "Real... Dangerous." Loki's concerned frown turned sour and nasty.

"This isn't a joke," Loki glanced around, "Mayhem will break out here. People will be hurt. You should leave, Midgard needs you alive. I'm serious."

And you're all about being serious, right? 'I'm Loki, _Trust meeee.' _" Tony felt guilty for saying that the moment he did as it hit Loki like a stab wound. He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow, winding his body close to itself, wincing all the while.

"Just go away, _now,_ You _vile... crass... infuriating..._ worm!" Loki still looked stung, as if that sentence had somehow hurt him deeply and that he had wanted to hurt Stark terribly as well, but the words just wouldn't come. He had stumbled over the words, remarkably so.

"Oh, so you wanna fight, do you?" And really, Tony could just slap himself. 'Yeah, Tony, Fight a God without your suit. You could totally kick his ass. With what, your fists? Yeah right.'

"No- I'm trying to con- Ugh, Just get out of here-" Loki screeched in a whisper, "You're breaking my concentration-" And as if he suddenly remembered that he needed to do something important, his long legs scrambled back underneath him and he sat with his palms placed upwards on his knees, and took a large breath of air.

Tony approached him cautiously and leaned down into Loki's face, meeting his eyes with a deep curious frown. His tie dangled in front of him and he asked, "What are you _doing?"_

"SSHH!" Loki spat frustratedly, not moving his face away from Starks, "It's a power up. I'm drawing in energy, now cease that _noise_ of yours at once."

Tony was now thoroughly alarmed, "You're not gonna cast some hocus pocus or something are you-"

"As a matter of fact I-"

"Don't make me call the crew, cause I will-"

And at that moment, a familiar voice boomed overhead, and Doom bots breached the sky.

"On your knees, you subservient dolts. I am Doom!"

Tony and Loki cursed at the exact same moment.

* * *

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